


I Said “I Love You,” What Does it Matter if I Lie to You?

by Lelantus



Series: Lies [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Explicit sexual content, Identity Porn, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 95,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelantus/pseuds/Lelantus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 year old Tony Stark is your typical teenager. Well, except for how he’s the playboy billionaire heir to Stark Industries and working on two PhDs. Oh, and 6 months ago he was kidnapped by - well, no one really knows who. Since his rescue (excuse you, Tony liberated himself), he’s also been keeping a pretty big secret. Here’s a hint: it’s shiny, red and gold, and flies. Tony’s had a productive couple of months, but the fact that his grandfather keeps trying to hire bodyguards for his “safety” is really putting a cramp in his ability to keep his secret superhero identity, well, a secret.</p><p>Steve Rogers wakes up in 2015 and finds out that he’s missed 70 years (Oh god, does this mean he’s 94?), a revelation that he handles with much less grace than usual. Mostly, Steve just wants to be Captain America again, but on his own terms and without a lot of fanfare. To fill the time while Steve tries to figure out the best way to resurrect a dead superhero, his good friend Isaac Stark offers him a job: bodyguard to Isaac’s grandson, Tony Stark - who seems to get into a surprising amount of trouble for a teenager. “There’s no better introduction to the 21st century than through Tony,” says Isaac. Somehow, Steve is not reassured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to Buy Friends and Get Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was pretty much entirely written in response to seeing the first Civil War trailer and being terribly depressed (especially when my best friend J wouldn't stop gloating, she's an ardent Steve/Bucky shipper). It's the first piece of fan fiction I've written, so comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated!. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Oh, and the title is taken from the song "The Sound" by the 1975, which has nothing to really do with the fic, but is an awesome song that you should go listen to right after reading this!
> 
> If you want to get in touch with me, shoot me an email at lelantusfics@gmail.com or come find me on tumblr (very recently acquired and I'm still working out the kinks) at [lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com).

**May 2015, Cambridge, MA**

Tony could safely say that getting arrested sucked. Well, maybe the whole handcuffs and Miranda Rights part didn’t suck nearly as much trying to deal with a truly epic hangover from within jail. Tony was dying. He needed coffee, he needed at least half a bottle of Advil and he needed food - ideally hangover-curing pancakes. It went without saying (even though Tony had loudly said as much to whoever in the police station that would listen to him) that he was getting none of these from within a jail cell. Tony lay on what police station was generously calling a “bed” and reflected on the sad state of his coffee and pancake-less life while doing his best to ignore the throbbing in his head. God, if felt like someone was repeatedly and vindictively hitting him in the head with a hammer. Tony spared a moment to thank last-night Tony for at least abstaining from any substances harder than alcohol. A loud clang from doorway of his cell sent another spike of pain through Tony’s head.

“Alright Stark, get your ass up, you’re free to go” called out a voice. Tony cracked his eyes open - and boy was that a mistake, everything was too bright and kind of spinny - and saw an unnecessarily loud and unpleasant policeman standing at the door of his jail cell, which was now open. The police officer seemed vaguely familiar, and Tony thought he might have been one of the officers that arrested him outside of the club last night.

“Oh thank god, I need coffee and drugs.” Seeing the look on the policeman’s face, Tony quickly amended, “Not those kind of drugs, I promise! My stay here at your lovely establishment has made me see the light. I’m going on the straight and narrow, no more illegal substances for me, Officer, no siree.”

“For god’s sake Stark, just shut up. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a drunk complain as much as you have in the past 12 hours,” growled the policeman.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting upright sent another wave of pain (with the added fun of nausea) through Tony’s head as he replied, “Unfortunately for you Officer, while I have many, many talents, shutting up is not one of them.” Tony rubbed a hand over his face and fervently prayed to any deity that might be listening for sunglasses.

The policeman’s face twisted in disgust and he retorted, “Well, it seems as though one of your many ‘talents’ is managing to walk away from multiple arrest charges without a single consequence. All it took was a phone call to Daddy and suddenly the prosecutor was falling all over themselves not to charge you with anything. It was all ‘Tell Mr. Stark how sorry we are for the mistake!’” Under his breath, and with a deadly glare in Tony’s direction, the policeman muttered, “Mistake my ass, it must be nice to live in a world where everything is handed to you.”

Getting gingerly to his feet, Tony shot the officer a cocky grin, “Well Officer, maybe next time you and your friends will think twice before arresting someone like me.” Still smiling, Tony met the eyes of the irate policeman, waving his hand in invitation, “Now, why don’t I do you the honor of letting you escort me out of here?”

Tony followed the sputtering officer, who had seemingly lost the ability to make any other sound except outraged huffs. Apparently, the policeman didn’t have the capacity to come up with a retort which Tony resented because even though he was hungover and sleep deprived, Tony retained his capacity for witty repartee. Tony supposed he couldn’t blame the man, after all, most people were too stupid to keep up with him - even when he wasn’t functioning at 100 percent.

The policeman led Tony past several other jail cells - all empty. “So what, you guys weren’t able to find any actual criminals to arrest last night so you decided to settle for handcuffing poor innocent little old me? Kinky,” snarked Tony.

The officer rounded on Tony, his face going red with what looked like pent up rage, “Listen here you little shit, you broke multiple laws last night including underage drinking and public intox-” Tony cut the officer off before he built up steam on what promised to be a very long and boring rant and with his most innocent smile said, “Now now officer, according to the prosecutor I haven’t committed any crimes. I’m an upstanding citizen! It looks like it’s you guys who were in the wrong, but I’m willing to hear your apology and let bygones be bygones.” Tony watched with glee as the policeman’s face flushed even darker and what looked like a vein started to throb in the man’s forehead.

Just before it seemed the officer was about to start shouting at Tony in earnest, the station captain rounded the corner and barked, “Officer Ritter, get back to your desk! I’ll escort Mr. Stark out.” Officer Ritter looked mutinous, but turned on his heel and strode back down the hallway. Before he left, Tony smirked at Officer Ritter, gave him a small wave and called out, “Have a good day Officer! You can send any apology muffin baskets to Stark Industries, care of Tony Stark!” “Mr. Stark,” the captain said solicitously, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, any delay in getting you released and for Officer Ritter’s attitude. If you’ll just follow me, we’ll get you back all of your personal effects.”

Putting on his best charming smile for the Captain, Tony replied, “It’s no problem Captain, let’s just make sure there are no inconveniences like this one in the future, right? I’m sure my father will happily make a donation to the Cambridge Police Department once he hears about my speedy release and your ability to avoid any ‘inconveniences’ like this one in the future.” Tony watched with amusement as the captain fell over himself to assure Tony that he would never be inconvenienced by the CPD again.

Tony followed the Captain to the processing area where Tony was quickly given back everything that had been in his pockets last night: a Dolce and Gabbana wallet that cost more than the amount of money Tony actually had in it (about $160); a Stark Industries prototype phone (with his own modifications, of course); a half empty pack of Marlboro cigarettes (Tony was a social and stress smoker); two condoms (there had been three at the beginning of last night - Tony had been optimistic); and a small bottle of lube. As Tony received and pocketed his items, he gave the middle-aged woman in charge of returning his effects a small wink and a “Thanks beautiful,” causing her to flush and stutter.

The Captain cleared his throat, “Well Mr. Stark, you’re free to leave, I hope we meet again under more auspicious circumstances,” he paused and then continued tentatively, “like the Cambridge Police Department's annual fundraising dinner?”

Tony laughed, fished out his cellphone and hit speed dial 2, and while his phone was ringing, turned to the Captain and said, “Sure thing Captain, send me the invite.”

Tony’s call connected and Happy Hogan, his chauffeur answered with a “What’s up boss?”

Shaking hands goodbye with the police Captain, Tony spoke into the phone, “Hey Happy, I need to be picked up outside the Cambridge PD.”

“Sure thing boss, Mr. Stark already called to let me know, I’m waiting outside,” Happy replied. After a pause, Happy continued apologetically, “Just so you know boss, there are some reporters waiting for you outside the precinct… I would have gone around back to pick you up, except, well, there is no back.”

Tony sighed, “It’s fine Happy, I’ll be out in a second.” Right as Tony was about to leave the police station, a man walked through the front door wearing a pair of knock-off Ray-Ban sunglasses. Seeing his salvation, Tony stepped in front of the man and drew out his wallet saying, “Hey there, I am incredibly hungover and all light hurts. I will give all of the money in my wallet and my eternal gratitude in exchange for your sunglasses.” Tony tried to look as pitiful as possible, hoping sympathy and greed would win him the sunglasses.

Although the man seemed a little confused, as soon as Tony drew out the money he took off the sunglasses and handed them over to Tony, “Here you go man, uh, good luck with, uh, that?” he said, gesturing to Tony’s generally disheveled appearance. Tony had yet to look into a mirror (he was avoiding it for as long as possible, he didn’t think his fragile emotional state was up for dealing with what he would see), but he knew that he must look pretty unkempt. Jail was not the ideal location for beauty sleep.

Tony thanked the man, and sighed with relief as he slipped on the sunglasses. Tony then took a fortifying breath and stepped out of the precinct. There was sunshine and quiet for about 30 seconds before the space in front of Tony exploded with camera flashes and shouted questions. Tony had a moment to be thankful that the sunglasses he was now wearing would cover his bloodshot eyes and the bags underneath when the pictures being taken inevitably appeared on TV, the internet and in gossip magazines later that day.

The reporters camped out in front of the police department yelled out questions and thrust microphones and tape recorders in front of him as Tony tried to force his way through the throng and towards the town car where Happy was waiting for him.

“Tony! Were you charged with anything? Will you be serving jail time? Doing community service?”

“Tony, sources are claiming that illegal drugs were involved. Will you be seeking counseling for your drug and alcohol addictions?”

“Mr. Stark, several sources say you were thrown out of the Middlesex for having sex in one of the bathrooms. Who are you sleeping with?”

As much as he would have liked to punch a few (or all) of the reporters (or at least be able to tell them where they could shove their microphones), Tony ignored all the questions and silently fumed as Happy got out of the town car and muscled his way through the shouting reporters, retrieved Tony, and escorted him to the car. Tony collapsed in the back seat of the car and released a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Boss, are you okay?” Happy asked from the front seat.

“Yeah Happy, thanks for getting me. Just take me home, I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Tony replied.

Tony pushed everything that had happened in the past 24 hours out of his mind and dozed on the ride home. As soon as Tony got back to his condo, he collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to shower or get undressed. Tony had missed his bed so much and mumbled promises to never abandon it again as he fell asleep in minutes. Tony didn’t know how long he slept, but when he woke up to the door of his room slamming open, it was dark outside.

Tony jolted upwards, looking in confusion towards the doorway where a handsome middle-aged man, with salt and pepper hair and a distinguished mustache stood. “Oh good, you’re awake.”  
Tony blinked owlishly at the man, mind racing, before finding the words to ask, “Dad? What are you doing here, you’re supposed to be in LA.”

Howard Stark looked coldly at his son and took a seat in the armchair facing the bed before replying, “Well Tony, I figured your latest stunt merited an in person discussion, especially since it's apparently going to cost me a considerable amount of money in donations to the CPD.” Tony rubbed his eyes and sighed, “Dad, I’m really not in the mood to -”

Howard cut the end of Tony’s sentence off and said in a deceptively calm and quiet voice, “Tony, I could care less whether or not you’re in ‘the mood’ to discuss this.” Howard paused, his eyes glittering with suppressed anger, before taking out a series of magazine and internet articles from his briefcase. One by one, he threw the articles onto the bed in front of Tony.

The articles were all from within the past three years - dating back to Tony’s first semester at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology when he was only 15. Tony glanced over the articles, picking out headlines such as ‘Tony Stark is Bisexual! Pictures of Male Tryst Reveal Sexuality,’ ‘Drunk Tony Stark Punches Reporter,’ ‘Explicit Pictures from Tony Stark Threesome Made Public’ and of course, today’s headline, ‘Tony Stark Arrested! Alcohol, Sex and Drugs?’ With each headline he read, Tony got angrier and angrier. Splayed out on the bed in front of him was the evidence that many private moments and every teenage screw up from the past three years were public domain.

Tony furiously pushed the articles off of his bed, exclaiming, “What do you want me to say?” Howard replied icily, “I don’t want you to say anything, I want you to stop embarrassing me and Stark Industries with these stunts. How do you think I feel whenever the press ignores major Stark Industries news in order to report and speculate on your latest public spectacle?”

Tony laughed bitterly, “Get out Dad. Thanks for stopping by and making I’m okay after spending the night in jail, it’s been lovely to catch up and all, but I think it would be better for everyone if you just left.”

Howard sat silently for a moment regarding his son before rising to his feet, “You’re a disappointment Tony. I’ve known it for years. You need pull yourself together if you still want to run Stark Industries some day. As things are currently, I am seriously considering disinheriting you from both my personal fortune and from controlling interests in Stark Industries. Let's see how long you survive without the protection of my name and my money.” Howard turned and walked to the doorway, but right before leaving, he turned back to Tony, his expression full of contempt,“I’m just glad your mother didn’t live to see what you’ve done with your life.”

Tony was half out of bed, ready to rant at Howard, to scream at him, to hit him - anything to try get rid of the turmoil and pain he felt at Howard’s last words - before he realized that Howard was gone. Tony collapsed back onto the bed, taking deep shuddering breaths and trying to get himself under control. Hatred for Howard burned through Tony, helping him chase away the tears that were threatening to spill over.

Today was the first time that he had seen his father in over 6 months. The last time Tony had seen Howard was at a formal Stark Industries party where they had merely exchanged polite greetings at the beginning of the evening before going their separate ways. Apparently, the only thing merited Howard’s presence in Massachusetts was one of Tony’s fuckups. Never mind that just last month he had made a huge breakthrough on the Jericho missile design in his mandatory work for SI weapons research and development and hadn’t gotten so much as a “good job” phone call from Howard. Howard hadn’t even bothered to show up for Tony’s undergraduate graduation from MIT last year, where he had graduated with Summa Cum Laude honors. The only person at Tony’s graduation had been his grandfather.

Tony lay on his bed replaying the conversation with Howard, letting the words “disappointment” and “disinherit” reverberate through his head. Tony decided that he needed to forget this shitty day, this shitty week, and if possible, the shitty past three years. Tony forced himself to get up, shower and change his clothes before leaving his condo. Tony didn’t go far, just down the street to a hole in the wall bar named ‘Atomic Number’ where the bartenders knew who he was and never carded him.

Tony sat at the end of the bar, ignoring everyone and proceeded to get methodically and spectacularly drunk. Tony was the last person left in the bar at last call and ignoring the judgmental looks from the staff (So what if it was a Wednesday night? Tony was done with school for the summer, he was allowed to drink as much as he liked, thank you very much), stumbled out of bar into the back alleyway around 2 am. Tony began to walk home, trying to get his hands to cooperate long enough to light a cigarette, when he felt a blinding pain on the back of his head and then everything went dark.

* * *

  **Three Months Later,** **August 2015,** **The Great Basin Desert, Nevada**

Tony tripped over a rock, catching himself with his hands before he fell completely. The impact reverberated throughout his bruised body, making him cry out in pain. Tony knelt on the hot ground for a few minutes before gritting his teeth and pushing himself back to his feet. Tony had no idea how long he had been walking. After the first few hours, he had lost track of time and distance, the flat desert expanse stretching out endlessly in front of him. Tony knew it had been at least a day since the last time he had had a drink and he knew that he only had a day or two left before the lack of water killed him. For fucks sake, Tony had built a weaponized suit of armour, blown up multiple buildings, escaped and gotten this far - he refused to sit down and die, no matter how much it hurt to move. Tony walked on, the bright sun beating down and heat wrapping around his body.

Tony didn’t know how much time passed before he crested the top of ridge. He looked down and saw perhaps the most beautiful sight in the world: a road, and what looked like some sort of building in the distance. With a new surge strength (and the fervent hope that he hadn’t started hallucinating), Tony strode forward.

As Tony neared the structure, he saw that it was a tiny gas station. Stumbling forward, Tony pushed the door open and was immediately met with a wave of cold air that felt heavenly on his overheated skin. Tony met the eyes of the young gas station clerk and seeing the boy’s gaping expression, spared a thought to how he must look: shirtless and sunburned, the desert dust that covered his body doing nothing hide the bruises and lacerations that littered his chest and arms. And of course, strangest of all, the glowing metal circle in the middle of his chest. Tony stared at the shocked clerk and managed to gasp out, “Please,” before his vision went black and his body finally gave out.

\-------

When Tony regained consciousness, he was lying on a bed in a bright, white room. Tony took a moment to revel how for the first time in months, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. Thank god, they must have put him on the good drugs (and Tony _definitely_ knew the difference between good and bad drugs). In spite - or maybe because - of that, his mind felt clear, thoughts unbothered by pain, thirst or hunger. Tony looked around and saw a variety of machines at his bedside, one emitting a soft a beeping, and an IV in the back of his hand. Finally, Tony’s eyes landed on the petite Asian woman dressed in a long white coat, sitting in the only chair in the hospital room.

Seeing that he was awake, the doctor smiled, rose to her feet and walked over to his bedside, “Mr. Stark, welcome back, I’m Dr. Karen Himura. You’ve been unconscious for the past two days. When you were brought in, you had an impressive list of injuries including two broken fingers and three fractured ribs. You were also severely dehydrated and malnourished. In spite of all of that, I’m happy to say that you’re doing well and should make a complete recovery except for...” Her words trailed off and she paused, her smile morphing into a more serious expression, “Well, as I’m sure you know, you have shrapnel in your chest. I have no idea how you’re still alive, but I assume it has something to do with that,” she said, pointing at the glowing circle in Tony’s chest, just visible through his hospital gown. Finally giving into the pent-up curiosity of days, Dr. Himura asked the question that soon everyone would want to know the answer to: “Tony, What happened to you?”

Tony closed his eyes as his brain raced to sketch out various scenarios. Everything hinged on how he decided to answer all the questions about his disappearance, starting with this question. Even after about five minutes of silent, frantic thought, Tony couldn’t picture all the possible repercussions of telling the truth. And by virtue of what the truth was, Tony knew that the repercussions were not going to be small; they would reverberate through Tony’s life and probably throughout the world. So, naturally, instead of telling the truth, Tony decided on the easier (and likely more entertaining) path: to lie.

Opening his eyes and laying a palm over the arc reactor, covering its glow, Tony met Dr. Hurima’s gaze and replied, “I don’t remember.” Then Tony grinned, feeling a rush of excitement when he thought about his decision and what exactly he was going to rebuild under his acquired cover of secrecy. Downgrading his grin to a smile - Dr. Hurima was starting to look a little concerned, Tony supposed most other trauma patients didn’t have much cause for exhilaration - Tony removed his hand from the arc reactor and stated firmly, “I don’t remember, and I’m going to need your help keeping a secret.”


	2. Defrosting your Super Soldier (is there a microwave setting for that?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for some PTSD-like and depression-like symptoms

**October 2015, Los Angeles, CA**

Steve woke up to warmth. The last thing he remembered - other than darkness and lancing pain that came from lack of oxygen, of course - was the bone-chilling cold. Steve remembered thinking that he would never be warm again, and yet, here it was, the disconcerting comfort of heat. He wasn’t underwater anymore, he wasn’t in the ice anymore. Steve’s eyes flew open and with a gasp (God, it felt good to be able to inhale as much air as he wanted) he sat bolt upright, blankets sliding to his waist.

Steve’s gaze flitted over his surroundings, rapidly taking in information. He was in an opulent bedroom, sitting in a large canopied bed. Some sort of machine in the corner was emitting soft jazz music. As Steve looked around, he felt his unease grow. He could identify almost everything in the room, but it all felt subtly off and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Finally, Steve’s gaze fell on the sole light source turned on in the dim room: a small lamp situated on a table. Next to the table was an armchair and in that armchair sat a man, reading a book. Like the room, Steve felt a frisson of recognition, but frustratingly couldn’t immediately place the man - a rare occurrence with his memory. He was elderly and distinguished, with white hair and impressive facial hair.

Clearly having heard his gasp, the man looked up from his book and meeting Steve’s gaze, smiled, his entire face crinkling around the action, “Ah, Captain Rogers, I’m glad that you're finally awake.”

And suddenly everything snapped into place in Steve’s mind. He knew that face. But, it couldn’t be, could it? The last time he had seen the man in front of him - what seemed like days ago - he had been in his early 20s, youthful and exuberant. Steve’s mind raced, attempting to figure out how it was possible. He felt his heart rate and breathing getting quicker, as his body edged towards panic. “Isaac, Isaac Stark - is that you?” And then in a voice that quavered slightly (despite his best effort to appear calm), Steve asked, “What year is it?”

Isaac’s smile disappeared, his expression sobering. Sighing, he closed the book in his lap and looked away from Steve, as if at a loss for words. Finally, Isaac’s brown eyes locked with Steve’s blue, “It’s November, 2015. Steve, I’m so sorry, but you’ve missed 70 years.

\-------

Steve thought he was handling things pretty well, considering that he knew nothing about modern society and that basically everyone he had ever known and loved was dead.

His first conversation with Isaac, however, could have gone better. Steve had wanted to know what had happened immediately after he had disappeared. So Isaac told him about the Allied victory in Europe, and Steve had been elated. But when Isaac spoke of the liberation of the Nazi concentration camps, Steve had felt sick with horror - although there had been rumors of what was happening in the camps, Steve and the soldiers under his command had never been sure if they were true or not. And then in a voice heavy with regret, Isaac told him about the bombs - the bombs that Isaac had helped build, not knowing what they were going to be used for.

Steve had felt dizzy and lightheaded. His thoughts had tripped over each other, and Steve was left dazedly thinking that if this was his response to the events from just one lost year, how was he going to bear hearing the rest of what had happened in the 70 years he had missed. Exactly what kind of future had he woken up in?

For the next week, Steve ignored everything else (including every weird electronic device he encountered) in the interest of catching up on the history he had missed. He spent hours every day speaking about modern politics and society with Isaac and the rest of his time immersed in history books. As far as coping mechanisms went, he thought it was a pretty decent one.

In another one of his early conversations with Isaac, Steve had asked what had happened to his friends. Isaac had smiled sadly and told him about the happy endings his friends had found. Happy endings like Peggy’s, who went on to marry a soldier and have a large, devoted family before she had passed away quietly,, just a few years ago. Steve mostly just tried to feel glad that those he loved had lived good lives, but there was a small part of him that couldn’t seem to stop from despairing that he had been absent for the majority their lives, and later on, probably forgotten. Steve didn’t ask Isaac to talk about it again.

Isaac had then started to tell him a little about the legacy left by Captain America, about Steve’s memorial at Arlington. Steve had quickly cut him off, unable to think about being Captain America at the moment. The more Steve learned about this century, the more he worried that Captain America wouldn’t fit - and if Captain America couldn't find a place in this future, what hope did Steve have? And sure, he was glad that Captain America hadn’t been forgotten, but what about Steve Rogers?

So in the interest of keeping himself from dwelling too much on the past, Steve immersed himself in learning about and adapting to his new reality. He even relented and took breaks from reading to let Isaac teach him how to use every single new modern device (most of which Steve thought were ridiculously redundant) the future has managed to come up with. Isaac was especially proud every time he got to show Steve something created by Stark Industries - which was apparently still thriving.

Steve also grudgingly submitted to Isaac’s terrifyingly efficient housekeeper and PA, Mrs. Trilby, when she took it upon herself to supply Steve with an entire new wardrobe. Isaac had laughed at Steve’s obvious distress and told him that it was simply easiest to let Mrs. Trilby have her way.

In between learning the difference between a television, a Stark Phone and a computer, getting fitted for more clothes than he could ever need, and marvelling at the sheer amount of food available in this century, Steve still spend most of his time catching up on history. Most of what Steve read caused him to vacillate between sadness and elation, with the former often outweighing the latter. It just seemed that so many awful things had happened in the 70 years Steve missed - in between countless natural disasters and cold-blooded killings, the world was almost destroyed by nuclear weapons , war broke out again, multiple times, and another genocide had been allowed to happen.

Steve was idealistic, but not naive - he didn’t think that anyone who went through a war could do so and remain innocent. So Steve knew that this was what the world was like, that the good was often mixed with the bad. But somehow, when he had been living through history, it had been easier to see the good, to notice kindness, courage and the triumphs in human existence and believe that they would outweigh the cruelty and selfishness in the world. That the good would always win against the bad. But when Steve read history, it was just a series of dates, places and often depressing facts, where the terrible things weren’t juxtaposed with and cushioned by the achievements of humanity. Steve felt like he was drowning all over again, surrounded by the worst history had to offer with only brief snatches of breath afforded by the glimmers of good glimpsed in history books. He wished he hadn’t lost so much time, he wished he could have lived it, he wished he could have made a difference.

Throughout the turbulence of Steve’s emotions, Isaac was godsend. Even though 70 years had passed, Steve was glad to see that Isaac was very much the same person Steve had known. Isaac was still brilliant and charming - easily recognizable as the man who had flirted with every beautiful woman in his path and offered to fly Steve into Nazi occupied air space on a dangerous mission.

Mostly, Steve was grateful that even 70 years later, Isaac was still his friend - a friend that had never stopped looking for Steve, that had never stopped believing that Steve was still alive. And in Steve’s worst moments, Isaac was often able to help, at least a little bit, either by being willing to distract Steve with reminiscences or by sharing his own amusing commentary on a particular piece of history. And whenever Steve tried to thank Isaac - for finding him, for taking him in, for getting him new clothes and well, new everything, and for being their for him - Isaac always deflected and demurred, saying that anyone would have done the same and that he enjoyed having someone around to talk to and share meals with.

Steve had originally assumed that Isaac must have remained a bachelor, since he could see no evidence of a family in Isaac's home. However, after broaching the subject with Isaac, Isaac had simply said his family was not very close knit and had deftly changed the topic. And although Isaac’s family seemed to be the one topic he was reluctant to discuss with Steve, from hints dropped in conversations and some stealthily acquired intelligence from Mrs. Trilby, Steve was able to figure out that Isaac’s wife had died shortly after giving birth to his son, Howard. Steve also learned that although Stark Industries had continued to be a success, with Howard as CEO, Isaac and Howard were estranged. Steve had been unable to figure out the reason for the estrangement and was sorry that Isaac seemed to be just as lonely as he was.  And finally, although Steve discovered that Isaac had a grandson, Anthony, Isaac rarely spoke about him.

But even though Steve had Isaac, he still felt extraordinarily alone. He missed everyone, but he especially missed Bucky, who had always been Steve’s family. Steve couldn’t think about Bucky too much without it causing a fierce ache in his chest, in his head, and when that ache compounded with every other emotion swirling through his body, Steve felt just as raw as he had right after he originally lost his best friend. The night he found a vintage picture of the Howling Commandos - complete with a smiling Bucky -  in his room (obviously left by Isaac from his collection of WWII memorabilia), was the first time Steve allowed himself to cry since waking up.

Okay, so it was possible that Steve had lied and he wasn’t actually doing that great adjusting to the future. But Steve was convinced that it was only a matter of time - that maybe if he kept telling himself that he was okay, then one day he would wake up and it would be true.

\-------

After a fortnight long crash course in the 20th century, Steve was getting frustrated and bored with being confined to Isaac’s house. Although, Steve mused to himself, it was probably doing it a disservice calling it a house, as it was definitely more of a mansion. Steve had never seen anything as large, opulent and ostentatious as Isaac Stark’s mansion - although he supposed he couldn’t expect anything less from the showman who had put on the first Stark Expo, flying car and all. And Steve was still trying to get used to having what seemed like an army of servants (ruled by Mrs. Trilby) underfoot and seeing to his every need. Steve knew that if he didn’t leave the house soon, he might just start destroying more than punching bags.

Cornering Isaac in the kitchen (which had quickly become one of Steve’s favorite places in the house, especially after he had convinced one of the cooks to teach him how to use all the unfamiliar appliances in an attempt to get people to stop waiting on him all the time), Steve began to diplomatically make his case to leave the house. Halfway through his rehearsed argument on quicker adaptation, Isaac cut him off with astonished look on his face, “Steve, what exactly do you think has been keeping you here?”

Steve’s mind, which had been working ahead of the conversation, preparing further arguments, stuttered to a halt. Steve gaped at Isaac. He hadn’t even considered that he didn’t need permission to leave - his mind was clearly still stuck thinking like a soldier who reported to a commanding officer. After a few silent moments, with Isaac looking more and more amused by the second, Steve tentatively asked, “So I can leave anytime I want?”

Sounding like he was barely suppressing his laughter, Isaac replied, “Of course you can, Steve… Although, it might be best if you refrained from driving anywhere until I can arrange for some sort of ID for you.” Isaac paused before continuing in a gentler tone of voice, “I think that it would be good for you to get out this old house, to talk to some people that aren’t me and to experience things outside of television or history books. The future is waiting for you to embrace it, Steve. And just because you leave, it doesn’t mean you can’t come back.”

At Isaac’s last sentence, a knot of tension that Steve hadn’t even noticed uncoiled. He supposed that on some level, he had worried that leaving Isaac’s mansion would mean leaving for good, leaving behind anything remotely familiar in this terrifying new world.

And so with Isaac’s encouragement, Steve began to explore LA. Isaac’s mansion was just outside the city, near the headquarters of Stark Industries. Being outside, in a new city (especially a city like LA), and in a new time was completely overwhelming to Steve. Steve’s super serum enhanced senses felt constantly bombarded by sound, noise and bright lights. The first few times he ventured out, he could only stand it for an hour or two - with most of his time spent simply wandering around, confused and often depressed by what he he saw of modern life. But as Steve’s mind and senses acclimated, he started spending more and more time out in the city, ducking into stores, coffee shops and museums. Steve even occasionally struck up conversations with people, but they never lasted long. People in the future seemed to be perpetually moving, constantly busy and mostly uninterested in the other humans around them.

Every day that Steve was out and about usually brought with it a whole new set of questions and unintelligible references that Steve dutifully wrote down and then either researched (Steve had gotten very good at Google) or asked Isaac about.

Steve’s days fell into a routine. He woke up, fended off all attempts to make him breakfast, insisting on cooking for himself, and then went for a long run. After coming back and showering, Steve would leave and walk around LA, adding to his “to look up later” list. Steve would then come back and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening either talking with Isaac or researching with books or a computer. Early on, Steve had decided he loved computers - he was still trying to wrap his mind around everything they could do, but Steve was amazed that he had all of humanity’s collective knowledge at his fingertips. Finally, Steve ended his days with quality time spent with a punching bag, trying to push himself to exhaustion, to thoughtlessness. Steve didn’t really sleep, and when he did, he slept poorly, his dreams filled with memories - some of them were good, but more often they were the bad memories, the ugly ones.

Steve knew he was superficially adapting to this new time. After all, it’s what his mind was enhanced and trained to do - to learn, memorize, understand and assimilate information in the most efficient manner possible. But Steve wasn’t even sure that he wanted to fit into this future, a future that he’d found to be predominantly confusing as well as loud, quick and largely superficial. But no matter how quickly or efficiently Steve adapted to this century, it didn’t stop him from feeling lost and numb. There was a disconnect between Steve and the future. Most days, Steve felt like an outsider looking in. He found it difficult to care about a time, a people, and a society that weren’t his.

This numbness, this absence of feeling terrified Steve. It was so unlike him that he was honestly concerned that he might never feel again. Even the ideals and convictions that once gave him hope, purpose and fire were useless. “What’s the point in fighting for liberty and justice in this new word? Why should you care when no one else seems to?” the voice in the back of his head taunted. Steve was immediately ashamed of these thoughts, after all, he wanted so badly to care, but nothing tied him to this future, nothing made him feel invested in it. Isaac, although a great friend and a tremendous source of support, was much more of a link to Steve’s past than a reason for him to care about the present.

Steve hadn’t broached the topic of Captain America with Isaac in a few weeks, since one of their earlier, difficult conversations. But the longer Steve felt numb, the more scared he was that he was never going to snap out of it. So one morning, on his daily run, Steve decided that his best chance to connect, to feel something in this century, was to become Captain America again, as soon as possible. Being a soldier and a hero was the only life that Steve had ever known, and maybe, if he could make a difference as Captain America, he could be happy.

\-------

“I’m ready to be Captain America again.”

Isaac looked up from his book with a startled expression. Steve and Isaac had been sitting in companionable silence in Isaac’s library, both reading, before Steve had blurted out the thought that had been consuming him for the past week.

“Ah,” was Isaac’s only response.

Steve narrowed his eyes, “Is ‘Ah’ all I’m going to get?”

Isaac chuckled, “No of course not, I’ve been waiting for you to be ready to talk about this again, but now that the moment is here, I find myself unsure as to the best way to proceed.”

“Well, you could just tell me what you think,” Steve replied in what he thought was a reasonably calm tone voice.

Isaac hummed, “It’s not quite that simple, I’m afraid. How much thought have you given to the idea?”

Steve huffed, “Well, it’s not a spur of the moment decision, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I didn’t think it was. I am more concerned with how exactly you plan to become Captain America again. I assume you’re not just going to don the uniform and head out to fight crime?”  Isaac replied.

Steve was silent for a moment, trying to process what Isaac was telling him, “I thought… Do you mean…” after several false starts, Steve finally asked, “Isn’t anyone expecting me?”

Isaac looked at Steve contemplatively before responding, “I haven’t told anyone that I’ve found you. I wanted to give you as much time as you needed before forcing you to make this decision.”

Steve was shocked. He had assumed that the Government, that the Army, that someone had been told and was just waiting for him to be ready to be Captain America again. “What do you mean you haven’t told anyone?” Steve demanded.

Isaac sighed, “Steve, you must know what would have happened if I had told anyone. There’s a very good possibility that you would have been whisked away to some top secret government or military base and not have been allowed out for months. And something like that could still happen. I have many contacts in the Government, in the Army and at SHIELD that would all be thrilled to have Captain America, alive and willing, but I haven’t told anyone because there’s no guarantee that any of them will actually let you be Captain America the way you want to be.”

Isaac paused, his mouth taking on a bitter twist, “I’m not as influential as I used to be. If they tried to keep you off active duty and in a research lab somewhere while attempting recreate the serum, or decided to make you a figurehead or a propaganda piece again, there wouldn’t be much I could do to stop them.”

Steve felt hollow, any glimmer of hope or excitement that he had felt at the prospect of being Captain America again draining out of him. Swallowing dryly, Steve asked, “Are you saying that you don’t think I should be Captain America?”

“No, I’m not saying that at all. I simply believe that the situation needs to be handled carefully if it’s going to work. And I want you to begin considering the possibility that this new time might not be as accepting of Captain America as you are hoping they will be.”

Steve knew immediately what Isaac was alluding to, “Are you talking about Iron Man?”

Everyone that had turned on a TV or read a newspaper in the past two months knew about Iron Man, the flying armour that had made headlines worldwide by dismantling a terrorist organization two months ago. No one knew who Iron Man was. Indeed, some speculated that there wasn’t anyone inside the suit, that it was being remotely piloted. Although the media had given him the name “Iron Man” - and never missed a chance to report his exploits - they couldn’t seem to decide from day to day whether or not Iron Man was a hero to be praised or a vigilante to be vilified. A hysterical portion of the public was worried that Iron Man was one step away from becoming a villain. The Government, the Army and a portion of the public were all demanding that Iron Man reveal his identity. There were even rumors that the Military had been tasked with capturing Iron Man and that Congress was demanding that Iron Man turn over the suit for Government use.

Steve wasn’t sure how to feel about Iron Man. On the one hand, he seemed to be one of the few who sincerely believed that Iron Man was trying to do the right thing. But Steve also suspected that Iron Man had a personal agenda - there seemed to be a pattern to his targets and ultimately, Iron Man could do so much more as a hero than he currently was doing, but was for some reason choosing not to. Steve also was… uncomfortable with the way Iron Man seemed to play into the media frenzy surrounding him. God knows that Steve himself had never been happy being in the spotlight.

Isaac nodded his agreement, “I think you have to be prepared for the possibility that if you take up the mantle of Captain America again, people won’t rest until they know everything about you. And that no matter how much good you do, there will always be those who will criticize and try to control your actions.” Isaac and Steve were both quiet for a moment, digesting Isaac’s words. Finally, Isaac broke the silence, “I think this world could use heroes, but I don’t know if it is ready for them.”

Steve listened to Isaac’s explanation in a daze. Deciding he was ready to be Captain America again had given him something to look forward to, it would have been something real for him to latch onto in this century. Captain America had always been… safe for Steve - obviously not physically, but emotionally. When Steve was Captain America, he always felt like he had a purpose and when holding his shield (his shield that was currently still lost somewhere in the ocean according to Isaac), the right decisions seemed easier to make. So sitting and listening to Isaac gently tell him that Captain America might have not place in this century made Steve feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Steve took an unsteady breath, “I don’t know if I know how to stop being Captain America. It’s who I am as much as anything else. It’s important.”

Isaac looked at Steve with sympathy shining clearly in his eyes before reaching out and laying a hand on Steve’s, “I know, and I’m not saying you give up being Captain America forever, I’m just suggesting that you take some more time to consider exactly how you want to do this while giving me time to explore potential scenarios with my contacts.”

“Isaac… you know that I’m unbelievably grateful for everything that you’ve done for me since I woke up, but I don’t know how much longer I can just sit here in your mansion. And it’s not as if I can go out and get a job. Setting aside the fact that I don’t exist on paper in this century, being Captain America is the only thing I know how to do and the only thing that I want to do,” Steve’s words trailed off as contemplated the future. It was pretty bleak, If Steve was being honest with himself.

Isaac interrupted Steve’s spiraling thoughts, “What if I had a job for you?” Isaac smiled, the kind of privately amused smile you wear when there’s a joke that only you know, “How do you feel about being a bodyguard?”


	3. Tony Stark Deals with Emotions (by assuming a secret superhero identity and blowing things up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Brief references to torture, some PTSD-like symptoms, and use of alcohol as a coping mechanism.

**Two Months Ago, September 2015, Pasadena, CA**

Tony was bored. At the front of the lecture hall, his professor was droning on about something, something, nanotechnology. From his seat in the back row, Tony surveyed the bent heads of his classmates as they frantically took notes. Tony’s head was also bent, but he was using his desk to try to take a nice nap rather than for any scholarly pursuits. His arrangement with Howard stipulated to he had to actually physically attend some of his classes at Caltech (rather than just turning in work and showing up for exams like he had at MIT), but it didn’t say anything about having to pay attention in said classes. _I already know all of this anyway_ , thought Tony grumpily. So Tony was bored and using class time to catch up on sleep. After all, when he wasn’t being forced to attend pointless lectures, his time was much too valuable to waste on mundane tasks like sleeping or eating.

As soon as class was over, Tony scrambled out of his seat and bolted for the door, giving his professor a smile and jaunty wave as he glared disapprovingly. Twenty minutes later Tony was bursting through the front door of his house and calling out, “JARVIS, is the Mark III ready?”

“Of course Sir, the armor is waiting for you in the laboratory, as requested,” a disembodied voice replied. Tony grinned. He had a long weekend ahead of him and he planned to spend most of it in the air.

“Thanks J!” JARVIS was a recent - but completely awesome - addition to Tony’s life. While building the armor, he had had a couple of _interesting_ (okay, almost disastrous) test runs, leading Tony to conclude that it might be useful to have some sort of intelligent interface to help him control the suit and process his surroundings while he was in it. And thus, JARVIS - Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, an AI - was born. And after Tony had gotten used to talking to JARVIS while in the armor, he had kind of started to miss talking to him outside of it. So really, it only made sense to increase and modify JARVIS’s operating parameters and then install JARVIS in his entire house and on every piece of tech Tony owned. Hell, he would probably be doing the world a favor if he just uploaded JARVIS to the web and let him run everything. It was particularly inspired stroke of genius - not only did JARVIS increase Tony’s lab productivity, like, a ridiculous amount, but now Tony always had someone to talk to. It was kind of like having a live-in, surprisingly snarky and super-knowledgeable BFF.

Apart from JARVIS, Tony was alone in his big Pasadena house. He didn’t even have Happy with him anymore. After Tony’s disappearance, Happy had gone back to working for Howard. Now that Tony was back and not dead, Howard had offered to return Happy to him, but Tony had declined. Tony was of the opinion that the less people that were close to him right now, the better. He shuddered whenever he thought of Happy - or someone else - being with him when he had been kidnapped. His kidnappers would almost certainly have killed anyone who had gotten in their way and Tony already had enough blood on his hands. He really couldn’t afford to get anyone else killed.

Tony ran up to his lab and quickly stripped out of his clothes, changing into flight comfortable yoga pants and a tank top. He paused for a second to admire the way he looked in the form-fitting pants in one of the full length mirrors scattered throughout his lab (he liked looking at himself in the armor, so sue him).

Before he knew it, he was safely ensconced in the armor and flying high over the Pacific Ocean.  As Tony flew higher, throwing in some dives and fancy maneuvers for the sheer joy of it, he felt everything that had been weighing him down fall away. Anger, guilt, stress all melted away and were replaced with exhilaration and an adrenaline rush that was better than any drug - and Tony would know. God, he was addicted to this, nothing made him happier than being in the sky, in the armor. Tony soared through the sky and felt unstoppable.

\-------

Tony jolted awake, gasping for breath.  He frantically tore off his shirt, seeking out the glow of the arc reactor and running his hands over its surface, reassuring himself that it was there, that he was alive and safe. Tony didn’t get nightmares very often anymore. They had been frequent and persistent in the weeks right after his kidnapping, but had begun to taper off when Tony had started being Iron Man in earnest and his good days had started outweighing the bad.

Recently, the nightmares usually only followed a particularly bad day - a day where he read a bit too much of his own bad press, a day where Howard rejected another one of his new ideas for SI, or a day when even being Iron Man wasn’t enough to stop something horrible from happening in the world.

Tony always woke up remembered the nightmares. He supposed that he deserved it, that it was part of his penance. Sometimes they were about the various tortures he had endured, but the most frequent ones were about the explosion from his first escape attempt. In his nightmares he relived in perfect detail the scorching pain and blind panic from when his own modified weapon had exploded, sending shrapnel into this chest. Only intervention by Yinsen - a doctor and a fellow captive - had kept him alive. Yinsen had been the one bright spot of his kidnapping, a true friend without whom Tony never would have become Iron Man. So even the nightmares about that pain or any of the other creative tortures he endured during his captivity paled in comparison to the dreams about holding a dying a Yinsen. No matter how many times he dreamt about it, he was never able to have a dream where he prevented Yinsen’s death. After those nightmares, Tony always woke up with Yinsen’s final words echoing in his head, “Don’t waste your life.”

\-------  

Tony was still working out the kinks in this whole superhero thing. The thing was, he never actually _meant_ to become Iron Man. It had been kind of been an accident. When Tony had woken up in a hospital after successfully using a giant metal suit to escape his kidnappers and blow up most of their compound, he had known that things had to change, that _he_ had to change. Tony had wasted 18 years of life and he wasn’t going to waste anymore. Tony was determined that his legacy wasn’t going to involve putting more blood on his hands than was already there. But his first thought definitely hadn’t been, “Why don’t I rebuild my weaponized armor and then use it to fight crime?” Tony really hadn’t seen that one coming.

* * *

  **Three Months Ago, August 2015**

Immediately post-kidnapping, Tony had several goals - find out who had kidnapped him, rebuild the armor (because it would be awesome), improve and expand the arc reactor technology he had finally made work, and, most importantly, get SI to stop producing weapons - but he didn’t quite know how to achieve them just yet. He was positive he was going to figure it out (he wasn’t one of the finest minds of his generation for nothing), but he needed to buy himself some time. So when everyone asked him how he had escaped and just how much he knew about his kidnappers, he lied and said he didn’t remember.

Tony also hid the existence of the arc reactor from everyone, and especially from Howard. It made him nauseous to even think about telling anyone his weakness. To tell someone about the arc reactor would be to trust that they would never use the knowledge against him, and Tony just wasn’t sure that he had anyone in his life that he trusted that much. He might have told his grandfather if he could have been sure that Isaac would keep it from Howard.

The minimal details that Tony gave about his captivity - that he didn’t know who had kidnapped him but that they had wanted him to design and make weapons for them, and that they had been liberal about using creative methods of persuasion to achieve their goals - seemed to appease those that asked.

The press was ecstatic over the story - “Scrappy Teen Genius Escapes Kidnappers” - and Tony couldn’t even step outside of the closed hospital ward where he was recovering without a crowd of reporters lying in wait. Howard eventually convinced Tony to do a couple of interviews, saying that it would be good press for Stark Industries. Tony mostly wanted to lock himself in his lab and not talk to anyone ever again, but he supposed that that wasn’t an option.

After hearing his story, Howard himself was mainly concerned with ascertaining that Tony hadn’t actually designed any proprietary Stark Technology for his kidnappers. Tony had toyed briefly with the idea of telling Howard he had designed an entire advanced missile system for them, mostly just to see the color his face would turn (Tony’s hospital stay had not been rife with entertainment), but eventually decided against it.

Following his discharge from the hospital, Tony decided that the first step in his grand master plan had to be moving closer to SI headquarters in Los Angeles. He figured that if out of sight equaled out of mind, then his best hope for convincing Howard to take SI in a new direction had to involve being as annoyingly visible and present as possible. It would be much harder to ignore Tony and his ideas if he wasn’t all the way across the country. Tony wasn’t too concerned, he excelled at being infuriatingly persistent. So instead of returning to MIT, he decided to finish his graduate work at Caltech. In a gratifying display for Tony’s ego, the administration at Caltech had been quick to offer “any possible assistance or incentive” to secure his late admission. And MIT was, of course, devastated to lose Tony Stark’s brain.

Tony had briefly returned to Cambridge - mainly to supervise the packing up of his lab, he was not about to risk damage to any of his equipment by not being there to direct things - before moving into his newly purchased house in Pasadena. Once in California, Tony finally had an extended face-to-face meeting with Howard. Howard’s brief visits while Tony was in the hospital had mainly been about getting Tony’s story straight for the press rather than actually talking with Tony and you know, seeing how he was doing after his near death experience.

Tony had called Howard’s office, demanding a meeting the moment he landed in California. A polite but frosty receptionist had _put him on hold_ and then scheduled him for a meeting a week later, claiming that “Mr. Stark was extremely busy at this time of year.” Needless to say, Tony spent most of the week leading up to his conversation with Howard working himself into a state of righteous fury. Clearly, Howard didn’t view meeting with his recently kidnapped and tortured son as a priority. Tony may or may not have blown up a couple of things in his lab.

In retrospect, Tony admitted that the conversation probably would have gone better without the shouting. But at the time, Tony hadn’t been able to contain himself when Howard had refused to so much as consider slowing down SI’s weapons development and production. When Tony had yelled that it was because of SI weapons that Tony had nearly died, Howard had merely raised an eyebrow and said, “Well, you’re not dead, are you.” Tony was pretty proud that he had refrained from physical violence. Apparently, his new post-kidnapping maturity did not extend to dealing with his father.

The end result of the meeting was a bargain. Tony had flatly refused to continue doing weapons research and development for SI, instead asking for permission to pursue his own projects. Howard had agreed that in exchange for Tony promising to be diligent about attending his classes and minimizing the time he spent in public.

Howard had fixed a seething Tony with a cool glare and demanded, “I’ll look at your original projects when you show me that you’re responsible enough to be associated with Stark Industries again. Although everyone else seems to have forgotten your past exploits in light of current events, I haven’t.” It was a reminder that although it was currently a PR impossibility to disown him, Tony doing anything too irresponsible again would give Howard the excuse he needed. And so Tony, gritting his teeth, had forced down any further acidic remarks and shook hands with Howard, silently vowing to create inventions so amazing that SI would never need to produce another weapon.

Tony’s reluctance to continue building weapons for Stark Industries went beyond distaste for working with the things that had caused his kidnapping and then nearly killed him when he tried to escape. Yinsen had told Tony to not waste his life, and Tony was pretty positive that Yinsen would view continuing to build weapons as squandering his potential. Tony wanted to be better, he wanted to build good things that saved lives rather than ended them. And he knew he could do it.

The next month passed in a flurry of catching up on coursework and hours dedicated to coming up with new projects for Stark Industries. Tony also devoted a significant amount of time to upgrading his arc reactor and building a new suit of armor (and later JARVIS). Re-building the armor started mostly as a challenged to himself. If he had been able to build a suit capable bringing down an entire criminal organization with minimal supplies, in the middle of the desert, then how awesome would armor designed in his own laboratory be? As it turned it, it was really, really awesome. Working on the armor quickly evolved into his favorite pet project and the day he realized he was going to be able to make it fly, he knew there was no stopping until his was in the sky.

In what little spare time he had, Tony began to investigate his kidnapping. Or rather, he gave JARVIS a bunch of relevant (and not so relevant) research parameters and sat back, letting him do the heavy lifting on the investigating. Tony really didn’t know how he had survived before JARVIS. He hoped that JARVIS would be able to come up with something, anything because Tony, unfortunately, didn’t actually know a lot about who kidnapped him.

He knew _why_ \- that had been pretty obvious what with the demands to make weapons and the torture when he refused to comply - but he didn’t know _who_ or _how_. Tony didn’t know if his kidnappers were hired by someone or if they were working on their own. He didn’t know if they were part of a larger group and if there were still people out there targeting him or looking for revenge. Tony knew he had killed some if not all his kidnappers in his escape. He tried not to think about it too much and whenever he felt the tide of guilt rising, he would fiercely remind himself that it's not like he had killed innocent people, that his kidnappers and torturers probably had it coming. He didn’t even know what most of them looked like as they had usually made sure to partially or complete cover their faces when interacting with Tony.

Ultimately, the thing that was bothering him the most about the whole ordeal was the he had no idea how his kidnappers had gotten ahold of SI weapons. Tony could deal with there being a threat to him and just him, but it made him sick to think about weapons that he helped design in the hands of people who wouldn’t hesitate to use them on defenseless people. Stark Industries had a strict policy of only supplying “the good guys” so Tony was at a loss to explain how a group of criminals had ended up with such advanced weaponry.

Nothing drove Tony crazier than not knowing things he wanted to know. Nothing. He wasn’t going to rest until he found something to explain the question mark that was his kidnapping. And Tony knew that if there was any part of the group responsible still out there, using Stark Industries technology, that he had to find a way to put a stop to it, since apparently Howard wasn’t going to stop weapons production anytime soon. Because Howard was a dick.

So Tony let JARVIS do his thing in the background while he focused on perfecting his armor and teaching himself how to use it so that it wearing it would feel like a second set of skin. Tony didn’t have any plans for the armor yet, but he figured that having a weaponized suit of armor might come in handy the next time (because let’s face it, there was probably going to be a next time) someone tried to kidnap or kill him.

But any plans Tony might have had for the suit kind of went out the window when almost exactly 6 weeks after his release from the hospital, Tony came back from class to JARVIS notifying him that he had “pertinent information” regarding Tony’s kidnapping. Tony raced up to the lab and drew up grainy video footage - obviously taken with a cell phone camera - of a village in Afghanistan being attacked by a terrorist group. Tony watched in horror as a villager who tried to resist was shot in the head in front of a sobbing woman and children. The video was shaky and blurry, but Tony was clearly able to recognize the Stark Industries logo decorating the chests of weapons in the background.

In a deceptively calm voice, Tony asked JARVIS, “How old is this footage, J?”

“The video was posted approximately 15 minutes ago, Sir. I am at this point unable to determine whether or not the individuals in question have any direct connection to your kidnapping, but the use of Stark Industries technology in a such a setting seemed significant as it parallels your own experience,” JARVIS replied. Tony re-watched the video clip. Nobody in the clip looked familiar and he had no idea if these people were part of the group involved in his kidnapping. Tony chewed his lip, trying to figure out what to do.

Then Tony watched the execution for the second time and saw red. It really didn’t matter if these were the people responsible for his own suffering, he had to do something. The next thing he knew, he was inside the armor and in the air, ordering JARVIS to set a course for Gulmira, Afghanistan.

Afterwards, Tony didn’t remember much besides the adrenaline rush and the rage that had been fueling him. And the explosions. Tony definitely remembered explosions, a vicious curl of satisfaction running through him with each piece of stolen SI technology he destroyed. And even though he didn’t remember _exactly_ how it happened, all that mattered was that the village was now safe (if full of a few more holes and craters than before), the SI weapons being used were destroyed, and the people responsible had been conveniently dropped off at a nearby US Army outpost for safekeeping.

The minute Tony was safely back in his home in California, he all but fell out of the armor, barely finding the strength to give JARVIS directions to begin making repairs on the armor before falling face-first onto his bed and passing out. 15 hours later, Tony woke up starving and with a body full of aches that hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. But it was a satisfying kind of hurt, it reminded him that he hadn’t dreamt the whole incident.

Tony dragged himself out of bed and to the kitchen, where he took a serving bowl - deciding that his regular bowls were not up to the challenge of satisfying his hunger - and filled it with cereal. As he began to eat, JARVIS spoke, “Sir, I suggest you take a look at the news.” So moving into the living room, Tony turned on the TV and promptly dropped his breakfast, bowl shattering and milk and cereal flying across the floor.

Playing on CNN - and on every other news channel that Tony checked - was video footage of him. Well not him exactly, but of the armor, using his shoulder mounted rockets to blow up a tank, among other things. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: “Who is Iron Man?” Tony gaped at the TV before blurting out, “Oh shit!”

“Indeed Sir,” replied JARVIS in a wry tone of voice. Fantastic. It looked like in addition to everything else he had going on, Tony now had a secret identity to maintain.

\-------

There had been a small - miniscule, really - part of Tony that had been hoping that it would all just blow over. That if Iron Man was never seen again, people would forget. Out of sight, out of mind, right? That small part of Tony whispered that it would be easier if everyone forgot, that in no rational world would people want _Tony_ to try to be hero. Tony had a couple of hours of self-indulgent wallowing before any plans he might have had to never put on the suit again were blown straight to hell.

Now that JARVIS knew what to look for - illegal Stark Industries technology use - he was quickly finding multiple instances of SI weapons being used by terrorist groups, enemy governments and criminals worldwide. The whole situation was pretty awful. Apparently, Tony’s kidnappers were just one group of many that somehow got their hands on SI technology and weren’t shy about using it to bring people under their control. They were one group of many who were apparently using weapons Tony had helped design to threaten, hurt and kill defenseless people. Sure, Tony was devastated; after all, there was now a lot more blood on his hands than he had previously thought. But mostly, Tony was incandescently angry.

He was furious with Howard for letting this happen; for either not knowing or not caring that it was happening. And the minute JARVIS had shown him evidence of SI explosives being detonated in a _refugee camp,_ Tony had known that he wasn’t going to be able to sit back and let this keep happening - especially after he had already been able to stop it once. It was probably stupid, a bad idea that would eventually backfire spectacularly, but Tony was going to keep using the armor to destroy SI weapons that were being used by those that shouldn’t have them. And then, he was going to find out exactly how these people were getting their hands on Stark Tech in the first place. Once Tony had solid proof of how it was happening, he was hoping to be able to... well, not blackmail (that was such an ugly word, he was going to gently persuade with threats of making the information public) Howard and the SI Board of Directors into stopping SI weapons development and production.

Tony took a deep breath and allowed himself to say it out loud, just this once, “I am Iron Man.” He then shook his head wonderingly. Really, accidentally becoming a superhero was a new low (high?), even for him.

* * *

  **Present Day, October 2015, Los Angeles, CA**

Tony was drunk. Well, maybe not falling-over-blackout-drunk, but definitely tipsy. He lay his head down on the table, the surface nice and cool against his cheek. Tony closed his eyes and tried to block out the pounding bass of the club’s music and the flashing lights from the dance floor.

It had been six months since the day of his kidnapping and Tony was feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. The night before his disappearance had started much like this one and had ended in his arrest. And while Tony had no plans to get arrested anytime soon, he was back to gracing the front pages of tabloid magazines and internet gossip blogs. Some choice headlines from the past month included: “Tony Stark Crashes Hollywood Party,” “Tony Stark Rumored to be Having an Affair with Professor,” and “Tony Stark Steals Yacht while Drunk.”

Unlike previous headlines written about him, none of these happened to be true. He had been invited to that Hollywood party, he was definitely not sleeping with any of his professors (Tony was younger and better looking than basically everyone at Caltech), and he couldn’t steal a yacht that he (well, Howard) already owned. But it was just the way things were. Tony could show up at a party, have a moderate amount to drink, leave alone and the next day's headlines would still read, “Tony Stark Caught Doing Cocaine with Three Hookers.”

Tony had gotten a few irate emails from Howard about his increased media presence, with thinly veiled threats reminding Tony about their “arrangement.” Tony, quite frankly, didn’t give a damn. Howard had so far summarily shot down every single idea and schematic that Tony had sent to him - all non-weapons related obviously - so Tony wasn’t feeling particularly guilty about reneging on his part of the deal. And Tony’s partying now had a _purpose_. Well actually, it had multiple purposes.

One, on his worst days, drinking helped him cope a little bit better; it helped ease the nightmares. Two, Tony thought it was probably a good idea that Tony Stark didn’t appear too reformed. It wouldn’t be good if someone to connected the appearance of Iron Man with engineering-genius Tony Stark’s rescue. And since no one in their right mind would equate Tony’s partying, playboy persona with the type of person who would wear the Iron Man armor, he didn’t think it was the worst idea to maintain said partying, playboy persona? So you could say it was his _duty_ to drink. Tipsy Tony thought it was a pretty persuasive argument. Although to be fair, when tipsy, Tony was likely to approve of any plan that led to more drinking. And well, since the “playboy” part of his persona seemed to be a non-starter, he was clinging to the “partying” part.

Right after his escape, Tony had tried to get back into his habit of one night stands. But every time he brought someone home, he would be distracted, worrying about hiding his scars and terrified that someone would notice the arc reactor. And the first time that he had had someone sleeping next to him (Tony was a gentleman and a scholar, he didn’t kick his one night stands out until after offering a complimentary breakfast the next morning), he had been so anxious that he had been barely able to fall asleep. When he had slept, his nightmares had been especially bad. Tony’s next few hookups followed a similar pattern and seemed to indicate that he _might_ have developed some personal space and trust issues during his kidnapping. So Tony had just stopped taking people home.

Tony missed the easy affection that came with casual sex. These days, when he got really desperate, he settled for furtive and ultimately unsatisfying hookups in public places. Tony thought he had matured beyond bathroom hookups in clubs, but apparently not.

So sure, letting himself grace the front of tabloids again might not have been the best thing for his reputation, but at this point Tony was willing to do anything and everything to keep being Iron Man - and that meant keeping his identity as Iron Man a secret. Tony was under no illusions, the minute that the world (and Howard) found out that Tony - an 18-year-old former (and many would argue, current) delinquent - was inside the suit, it would become exponentially more difficult to pursue his own agenda. Everyone would want to take the suit away from him. Howard to sell it to the highest bidder and everyone else to give it to someone more worthy to wear it. And Tony loved being Iron Man more than he had thought he was capable of loving anything.

Tony’s current activities as Iron Man were still mainly limited to dismantling criminal networks and regimes that were using illegally obtained SI technology and dodging the military’s attempts to catch Iron Man (which wasn’t that hard, they were pretty bad it). Tony had tried to do the hero thing in a broader sense… and it hadn’t gone great. You see, there was this huge fire in an office building in Northern California and all over the news they were broadcasting that there were still people trapped inside, people that the fire department was having trouble getting out. So Tony had decided to do the good Samaritan thing, put on the suit and go rescue some people. Which he did! He totally got everyone out of the building, and prettily speedily too.

However, Tony hadn’t been paying too much attention to the building’s structural stability (he was distracted by the saving people thing, okay!) and maybe he had blasted a couple of load bearing walls out of the way in his attempt to get to trapped people. And maybe the entire building had collapsed shortly after the last person was rescued, creating millions in property damages that wouldn’t have happened if Tony hadn’t blown up parts of building. The press had had a field day with that one. Afterwards, Tony had made the executive decision to keep his superheroing limited to what he was familiar with.

At the beginning, Tony had tried to avoid reading Iron Man’s press. After all, about 50% of the time, the press seemed to be convinced that Iron Man was a budding supervillain who was going to stage a coup, take over the US Government and then the world. Which, like, it wasn’t that Tony hadn’t considered doing that, it just seemed like it would be a lot of effort for very little reward. And that type of thing never seemed to work out too well for the villain in the end.

Anyways, these days, Tony liked to play into his press. Howard always said that the best media story was a story that you controlled. And Howard was an asshole, but he knew his PR. After all, no one but Tony seemed to actually be aware that Howard was an asshole, so his PR had to be stellar. Tony enjoyed giving the occasional sound bite to reporters - his best one to date had been in answer to the question, “What do you hope to achieve as Iron Man?” To which Tony had obviously replied with a raised peace sign, “Privatizing world peace.”  

From time to time Tony also sent footage of Iron Man to the media, usually when he had done something particularly cool or daringly heroic. Like saving children. Saving children always made for good press. Tony couldn’t really help it, he had an adoring public to reach. Well, at least half of the public was adoring. And really, any “showboating” (as one critic had called it) that he did for the media or crowds was all done in the name of convincing people that Iron Man was one of the good guys, that Iron Man was doing good things. He figured the military would be way less likely to try to shoot him again if he had good press. Also, Tony was just doing his part to make sure that the Iron Man action figure stayed on track to become this Christmas’s bestselling toy. Tony already owned three and they were awesome.

And so Tony was in a club, drunk, on a Thursday night. And it was all for Iron Man. It was for world peace, really. Tony was just going to lie here, on this nice cool tabletop, and think of world peace. Tony would be a _great_ Miss America.

\-------

Tony was in his lab when the doorbell rang. Tony immediately perked up, visitors to his house were pretty rare as he generally tried to keep people as far away from his lab (and the Iron Man suits) as possible. He had JARVIS pull up the feed from the camera outside his door and as soon as he saw who was standing on his doorstep, Tony was scrambling to turn off his welder and wriggle out of his protective gear. Tony raced down the steps, flung open the front door and threw himself at the person on the other side, with an enthusiastic shout, “Gramps!”

Isaac Stark stumbled a little as he embraced his grandson, a fond smile lighting up his face. “Tony, you look like you were in the middle of something, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

Tony scoffed, “Please, you’re more important than anything I’m fiddling with in the lab. But maybe if you have some time later, I can show you some things I’ve been working on and you can give me your opinion?”

Isaac chuckled, “Of course Tony, you know I always love hearing about your inventions.”

While Tony’s relationship with Howard couldn’t be characterized as anything but strained, he and his grandfather had always been close. While Howard had always demanded perfection from Tony - and never bothered to conceal his disappointment when Tony failed to achieve it - Isaac had always gently encouraged Tony’s curiosity and love for engineering. Tony had always suspected that a large part of the rift between Isaac and Howard had been a result of disagreements over how to best deal with Tony.

When Tony was 7 and building his first engine, it was Isaac that bought Tony the parts and tools he needed. And when Tony had caused his first laboratory explosion at 12, Isaac had been the one to pay for the repairs after Howard had refused. It was Isaac that flew out and took Tony for a celebratory dinner when he graduated top of his class at MIT. One of the major perks of transferring to Caltech was that Tony was now close enough to his grandfather to visit him regularly.

Tony ushered Isaac into the house and led him to the kitchen, where he started making coffee for himself and tea for Isaac. “So not that I don’t love seeing you, because I always do, but is there a specific reason you decided to visit?”

“Do I need to have a reason to visit my favorite grandson?” Isaac teased.

Tony gave Isaac a calculating look, “I’m your only grandson. And no you don’t need a reason to visit, but I suspect that this time, you have one.”

Isaac smiled, “Well, I thought we could try discussing your bodyguard situation again.”

Tony groaned. Right after Tony had moved to California, Isaac had strongly argued for the necessity of hiring him a bodyguard. Isaac’s arguments were sound - they didn’t know who had kidnapped Tony and they might try again. In fact, they were the same arguments that Tony had originally used to help justify building the armor. And at first, Tony had agreed to having a bodyguard in an attempt to give his grandfather some peace of mind. However, the minute that Tony had revealed the Iron Man armor to the world and gained a secret identity, he had known that he could never have bodyguard - or have anyone that would be that close to him at all times. The possibility of them finding out who Iron Man was was just too risky. Plus, having a bodyguard would really put a damper on his partying, which as discussed, was vital for world peace.

Tony had tried to back out of his agreement, but no amount of fancy arguments could convince Isaac that he didn’t need a bodyguard. And Tony couldn’t exactly tell him the truth: that he was Iron Man and in fact, quite capable of taking care of himself. So Tony was left with no other choice but to drive away every bodyguard candidate that Isaac hired. So far Tony had successfully gotten rid of four different bodyguards by generally being as troublesome and awful a charge as possible. The longest a bodyguard had lasted was a week. Most left after spending an entire day with him. Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little proud of his ability drive people to distraction. Although it was kind of depressing that he usually didn’t need to do much more than be his usual self to get them to leave. It had been about a month since the last bodyguard Isaac hired had angrily quit and Tony had been hoping that Isaac had given on the whole bodyguard idea.

At Tony’s groan, Isaac’s smile wavered. “Tony, I know you don’t take this seriously, but I do. I don’t think I would be to live with myself if something happened to you when I could have done something to prevent it. Your father might not care about your safety, but I do.”

Oh crap, that was a low blow. Isaac knew how much Tony loved him, how much Tony wanted to make him happy and proud. And if anything other than Iron Man had been at stake, Tony would have gladly given it up to give his grandfather some peace of mind.

Tony’s conflicted feelings must have shown on his face because Isaac sighed and said, “Alright Tony, I have a compromise for you. You try one last bodyguard, and if they don’t work out, then I’ll leave the issue alone.”

Tony tried to keep his relief from showing. One more bodyguard. That he could do. After all, it shouldn’t be that hard to get a fifth one to quit. Tony was confident in his ability to be a brat.

Tony must not have been successful in concealing his thoughts because Isaac took one look at his expression and laughed. “Oh Tony, I can see that you think you’re going to win this one and be bodyguard-free by the end of the week. But I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. The person I have in mind for the job is at least as stubborn as you are. Even you might find it difficult to escape this particular bodyguard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has left kudos and comments or subscribed and bookmarked! Apologies for the slow build that's happening here, but I really wanted to establish my characters. As always, comments and constructive feedback are much appreciated.


	4. How to Track Down your Teenage Genius and Keep Him out of Trouble

Isaac gave Steve a folder on Tony Stark - or rather, Anthony Edward Stark, age 18. Born May 29th, 1997 to Howard and Maria Stark (latter deceased May 29th, 1997 - complications with childbirth). Graduated MIT Summa Cum Laude at 17 years old. The folder contained a wealth of information, everything from academic transcripts to news clippings to Tony’s mugshot (in which he was grinning at the camera). Steve wasn’t impressed. The file painted a picture of squandered potential. To Steve, it seemed that Tony Stark embodied the frivolous excess and pageantry of this future.

Steve finished skimming the file and met Isaac’s gaze with raised eyebrows. Isaac gave a small chuckle, “Don’t judge Tony too harshly. He’s lived his entire life surrounded by intense scrutiny and with constant pressure to live up to the Stark legacy. Underneath his bluster and occasional questionable decisions, he’s a good person and a good grandson. And I think he’s still growing up.”

Steve decided not to argue. From the few times that Isaac had mentioned his grandson before, it had been clear that the man adored Tony. It was natural that he might have a somewhat skewed perspective on the kid. Instead of pursuing further discussion of Tony Stark’s character, Steve asked the question that had been bothering him, “There’s nothing in this file from after Tony’s MIT graduation, 6 months ago. Why?”

At Steve’s question, Isaac’s face fell. With a grave expression, Isaac handed over a second file. “This is the file for the past 6 months.”

Steve opened the new file and the first thing he saw were newspaper headlines all proclaiming some variation of “Tony Stark Missing!” Steve read the entire saga of Tony’s disappearance and reappearance as depicted in the media. With growing horror, he then read Tony’s medical records and his personal statements to law enforcement regarding the kidnapping. Steve flipped past pictures of Tony taken at the hospital quickly, not wanting to dwell on the evidence of the abuses his body had suffered. The most recent information indicated that Tony had fully recovered from his ordeal and was now living in California, completing graduate work at Caltech, and doing research and development for Stark Industries. Additionally, in the past month or so, Tony Stark’s name had begun to appear in the news again, attached to rumors of excessive drinking and partying.

Isaac waited for Steve to be done reading the second file before speaking. “You see why I am eager for Tony to have a bodyguard. Next to nothing has been discovered regarding the kidnapping - either by law enforcement or by my own privately hired investigators. There is a very real possibility that he is still in danger from persons unknown.”

“Has he been without a bodyguard for the past three months?” Steve asked, a little incredulously.

Isaac shifted in his seat and gave a small cough, “Ah… well, you see, although he initially agreed to the necessity of having a bodyguard, since then, Tony seems to have reversed his opinion. The past four bodyguards I’ve hired have all quit within a week of taking the job.”

This prompted another set of raised brows from Steve. Isaac continued, “Unfortunately, Tony can be quite difficult when he sets his mind to it.”

Steve gave Isaac a skeptical look, “What makes you think that Tony is going to like me any better than the other people you’ve hired?”

Isaac chuckled, “Oh, I don’t think he will, at least not a first. But I do think you’re stubborn enough to outlast Tony’s antics and creative enough to deal with them appropriately.”

Steve was silent for a moment, thinking. He wasn’t sure why Isaac thought he should spend his time doing this, protecting someone who clearly didn’t want to be protected. And really, this couldn’t be the only idea Isaac had to keep Steve occupied until he was able to be Captain America again. “Why exactly do you think should I do this?” Steve felt compelled to ask.

Still smiling, Isaac replied, “Simply put, I think you still need time. Time to continue getting used to this century and time to think about how to be Captain America again. And if you do this while you’re taking that time… Well, I can guarantee you that being Tony’s bodyguard is never going to be boring. And there’s no better introduction to the 21st century than through Tony.”

Clearly reading Steve’s expression - which remained dubious - Isaac continued, “Additionally, you would be doing me great service. Tony is the closest family I have left, and I will sleep much better at night knowing that he has you watching over him.”

And really, what could Steve say to that, the heartfelt plea of his best friend, other than, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

\-------

Steve hopped off of his motorcycle in front of Tony Stark’s house. After Steve had agreed to the job, Isaac had spent the next few days bringing him up to speed on Tony’s current schedule and outlining what he envisioned as Steve’s responsibilities. It seemed to boil down to: never let Tony leave the house without you, when you’re out in public, always keep Tony within sight, and try to keep Tony from doing anything stupid. Steve was pretty sure he could do that. After all, Steve had successfully kept the Howling Commandos in line, how much more difficult could it be to keep an eye on one teenage boy?

Isaac had also been busy calling in favors to create a fake background for Steve. When Steve had asked Isaac why he was going through so much trouble, Isaac had snorted and said that he was sure Tony would try to dig up as much information on Steve as possible. And considering the way Tony’s mind made connections, it was best to make sure that the Steve in this time wasn’t in anyway associated with the name Steve Rogers.

So now Steve had a new identity… sort of. He had insisted on keeping much of his personal information the same out of a desire to lie to Tony as little as possible. So now Steve Rogers was Captain Steve Daniels, honorably discharged from the US Army, Special Forces, after serving tours in Afghanistan and Iraq (complete with a falsified military record that contained a good number of the honors Steve had actually been awarded during World War II). The best part of having a new identity was that he was able to finally get a driver’s license and with a loan from Isaac, purchase a Harley-Davidson motorcycle.

And now Steve was at Tony’s house, for his “interview.” Since Steve was already guaranteed the job, it was more of a way for Steve and Tony to briefly get to know each other before Steve officially accepted Isaac’s offer and moved in to Tony’s house. Steve surveyed the house, which was large and modern, set back from the main road and behind a row of tall trees that kept it fairly well hidden from passersby. Steve approached the front door and knocked. He waited a few minutes before checking his watch and knocking again. It was 8pm, the appointed meeting time, late due to Tony’s Thursday evening class.

Just as he was raising his hand to knock once more, a voice spoke in a polite British accent, “Captain Steve Daniels, I have a message from Tony Stark.” Steve whipped his around, looking for the source of the voice before remembering Isaac’s warning that Tony had installed an Artificial Intelligence, JARVIS, throughout his house. Steve had had to admit that the idea of an AI was pretty amazing, it was like something directly out of one of the science fiction books he used to read as a kid.

Steve relaxed slightly and turned to face the door again before asking, “Are you JARVIS?”

“Indeed I am Captain, would you like to hear Mr. Stark’s message?”  
“Yes please and thank you JARVIS,” Steve replied.

“Mr. Stark left the house approximately 45 minutes ago. Before leaving he said ‘Tell the Captain when he gets here that I’ve gone to Paradise and if he’s serious about this thing, he can find me there.’”

 _Oh great_ , thought Steve, _I haven’t even met the kid and I’ve already failed at the cardinal rule: never let Tony Stark out of your sight._ This job was not off to an auspicious start. With a frustrated sigh, he asked, “JARVIS, can you tell me where and what ‘Paradise’ is?”

\-------

Steve was fantasizing about throttling Tony Stark, once he actually managed to find him that was. Paradise had turned out to be a restaurant in LA. Steve had gotten there only to be told by a waiter that he had “just missed Mr. Stark” who was apparently headed to a bar for drinks with a large group of friends. So Steve had driven to the bar where he had been told by the bartender that “Tony Stark just left for Exchange.” The bartender had then asked if he was Steve Daniels and when Steve had replied affirmatively, had given him a napkin on which the words _catch me if you can -TS :)_ had been scribbled _._ Steve slowly tore it to pieces. He may or may not have been picturing doing the same to Tony Stark while doing so.

Exchange turned out to be a club in downtown LA and if Tony wasn’t here, Steve was probably going to have to punch a wall. Steve eyed the club with trepidation before entering. Although it was only just after 10pm, the club was dim and full of people. Loud music thumped out of speakers throughout the club while multicolored lights shifted and pulsed. The dance floor was packed with bodies pressed together, moving to the music and around the walls, people congregated around tables and in hidden alcoves, throwing back drinks.

Steve felt supremely underdressed in his jeans, white t-shirt and brown leather jacket. He pushed his way through the crowd in front of the bar, finding a fairly empty corner from where he could see most of the club. His eyes scanned the room, looking for a single face and trying to avoid looking too closely at what anyone on the dance floor or in one of the more private booths was doing.

His search for Tony Stark was interrupted by a hand sliding down his arm. Steve startled and looked to find a petite red-head woman standing in front of him, eyes fixed on him. The woman leaned into Steve’s space, hand still on Steve’s arm, and asked, “Do you want to dance?”

Steve jerked away, his face flushing. “I… Um...” he stammered before he was able to force out the sentence, “I can’t dance.”

Far from being offended, the woman merely seemed amused. Smiling, she asked, “What’s a guy who can’t dance doing in a place like this?”

Steve felt himself blush even more and was glad for the dim lighting inside the club. “Um, I was actually looking for someone. Tony Stark. Do you happen to know if he’s here?”

The woman laughed and took a step away. “You’re looking for Tony Stark? I should have known, the hottest ones always play for the other team. Well, you’re in luck, I think he’s at a private table over there,” she said, pointing to group of tables on the far side of the club from Steve.

Steve was stuck trying to figure out the meaning of “play for the other team” - he still didn’t have a complete grasp on modern idioms - and the woman disappeared into the crowd before Steve could stammer out a thank you. Giving up on trying to understand anything that was going on, Steve squared his shoulders and moved in the direction she had pointed, determined that tonight was going to end with him finding Tony Stark and maybe yelling at him for a bit.

The first time Steve saw Tony Stark, Tony was licking a line of salt off the neck of a beautiful girl. He then proceeded to knock back a shot of golden liquid and bite of lime out of the girl’s mouth. The rest of the people at the table cheered and someone called out, “More shots!”, a chorus that was eagerly taken up by the rest of the table.

Steve made his way over until he was standing directly in front of the table, glaring at Tony Stark. Steve was doing his best to put the full force of his disapproval into the glare. When Tony didn’t look his way, Steve coughed to get his attention and gritted out a terse, “Tony Stark.”

Upon hearing his name, Tony finally noticed Steve standing at the edge of the table. His eyes widened before taking a leisurely tour up and down Steve’s body, pupils dilating. Tony stood up and walked over to Steve, and clearly misinterpreting Steve’s glare, opened the conversation with a smile and a, “Hi there gorgeous.”

Steve stood there in a kind of numb shock. If there was one thing he hadn’t expected from his meeting with Tony Stark, it had been getting hit on. Because that’s definitely what was happening here. Steve often missed subtle cues of interest, but there was nothing subtle about the way Tony was looking at him. Steve’s mind ground to a halt, not really processing that a man - a man who was his _employer_ and _six years_ younger than him - was apparently attempting to oh so casually get him into bed.

Steve offhandedly noticed that pictures really didn’t do Tony Stark justice. There was something inherently vibrant about him that was difficult to catch on film and that could only really be seen when he was moving, talking and laughing in front of you. Unfortunately, he was undeniably attractive, with his warm brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, full lips and golden skin. And it wasn’t helping matters that he was dressed in a tight V-neck shirt and jeans that looked painted on.

Steve had been successfully ignoring just how handsome Tony was - any allure Tony had seemed like it was outweighed by a less than stellar personality anyways - but that was difficult to do when he was standing right in front of Steve, eyeing him as if he would like nothing more than to see what Steve tasted like. It was a lot harder to think of Tony as a kid and as his boss when he looked at Steve with that kind of heat in his eyes.

Steve’s brain finally started working again and he remembered just how angry he was with Tony Stark and no amount of… flirting was going to make him forget it. Steve scowled and tried to glare harder before saying, “I’m Captain Steve Daniels.”

The swift change in Tony’s expression from bold appraisal to wide-eyed surprise would have been funnier if Steve were less pissed off. After a pause, “Oh shit, are you really?” was what Tony came up with.

Steve frowned some more, “Yes I am, and if I’m not mistaken, we had a meeting scheduled at your house, about two and a half hours ago. Instead of being there and dealing with this maturely, you decided to lead me on a chase all over town.”

Tony answered with a wide, insincere smile. “Sorry about that man, why don’t you pull up a chair and unwind a bit,” he replied, somehow not sounding sorry at all.

Steve clenched his jaw, “No thank you. You really shouldn’t have come here without a bodyguard. It was pretty stupid of you to put yourself at risk just to what, test me?”

The smile slipped off of Tony’s face, his expression turning neutral while his eyes shone with suppressed anger. “Fuck you, I can take care of myself.”

“You did a great job of taking care of yourself six months ago,” Steve shot back. Right after he said it, he felt a trickle of guilt, especially once he noticed Tony’s barely perceptible flinch. He hadn’t meant to bring up the kidnapping so bluntly.

“Well, I’ve been managing just fine on my own for the past three months. I really don’t need an oversized, self-righteous, blond puppy following me around, okay? So why don’t you just go back to my grandfather and tell him that this little arrangement isn’t going to work,” Tony hissed.

Tony’s words quickly erased any guilt that Steve might have been feeling. Tony Stark was infuriating and a bully. “It’s pretty selfish to do this to Isaac don’t you think? How well do you think he’s going to sleep at night knowing that you flatly refused to try to make this work? Stop acting like a spoiled child who isn’t getting what he wants.”

If looks could kill, Steve would be dead. Tony stepped into Steve’s space and spoke in a low, angry voice, “You don’t know anything about me. I don’t need to stand here and listen to some GI Joe clone _judge_ me.” Before Steve could reply, Tony had stepped away, grabbed another drink off of the table before heading towards to the dance floor.

 _Well, that could have gone better,_ thought Steve dismally. Steve was pretty sure that despite Isaac’s hopes and dreams, this job wasn’t going to work out. Tony was obviously dead set against having a bodyguard and Steve clearly wasn’t the right person to be Tony’s bodyguard. Steve was apparently better suited to getting under Tony’s skin rather than standing around silently as unobtrusive security. Not that Steve regretted much of what he said. Tony had deserved it. Steve would just have to go back to Isaac and tell him that it was a lost cause. But first, he unfortunately was going to have to stay and make sure that Tony got home safely. He was already here, he might as well give Isaac peace of mind about his grandson’s safety for one night.

Steve made his way back to his unobtrusive corner from earlier, making sure to keep an eye on Tony on the dance floor while periodically scanning the rest of the crowd and looking for threats. Tony noticed him watching and after making a rude gesture in his direction, proceeded to ignore Steve and dance. Steve grudgingly observed that Tony was a good dancer. Eventually, Tony seemed to get tired of dancing and stopped to make his way over to the restroom.

Tony looked over his shoulder before entering the men’s room, clearly seeing Steve following him. Steve stopped outside of the door to the bathrooms, hesitating and ultimately deciding to wait for Tony outside. Steve didn’t relish the prospect of being in an enclosed space with Tony. After five minutes, when Tony failed to appear, Steve began to get worried. After seven, Steve pushed open the door, calling out, “Tony? Tony Stark?”

The bathroom was empty, but a window in the corner leading to an alley behind the club was wide open. Steve cursed under his breath. Clearly, Tony wasn’t done making Steve chase him. Steve exited the bathroom and quickly found a door leading out to the back of the club. He ran down the alley and as a he rounded a corner, leaving the direct view of the club, he was met with a strange sight.

Tony Stark was standing with his hands in the air as a man dressed all in black pointed a gun at him. A few feet away, a car stood idling and two more men stood next to it, also holding guns. Steve arrived just as Tony was saying, “And you really don’t want to deal with kidnapping me, it didn’t go so well for the last people that tried.”

As soon as Steve was in sight, Tony’s sharp gaze locked on him and his words trailed off. The man directly in front of Tony swung around, pointing his gun at Steve. Steve didn’t pause to think. Grabbing the metal lid off a trashcan next to him, he threw it as he would have thrown his shield, knocking the gun out of the hand of the man in front of Tony and probably breaking his hand in the process. Tony, taking advantage of the distraction Steve provided, proceeded to punch his assailant in the face before kneeing him the balls.

Seeing that Tony was apparently holding his own in the fight, Steve sprinted towards the men standing by the car, dodging bullets as the two shot at him. Steve felt one graze the sleeve of his jacket before he reached the men, quickly disarming them. Steve was able to subdue them after a couple of traded blows, both men crumpling to the ground, unconscious. As soon as his fight was over, Steve whipped around, anxiously searching for Tony. Tony was still grappling with his assailant, but after receiving a solid hit to the head, the man fell down and stayed down. As soon as the man fighting Tony dropped, the car that had been waiting at the end of the alley pulled away, tires screeching.

Steve could feel adrenaline, exhilaration, fear and anger still pulsing through his veins. God, he had missed this. The high of fighting for a good cause. He was glad to see that 70 years spent frozen hadn’t affected his ability to win a fight.

Tony and Steve looked at each other from opposite sides of the alley. Tony was breathing heavily and bleeding from a cut on his mouth, the beginnings of bruises already starting to form on his face. Steve could see Tony’s knuckles were also bloody. Tony’s hands were clenching and unclenching at his side, probably unconsciously. After a moment of silence, during which the only sounds were the distant noises of the club in the background, Tony began to curse, “God fucking damn. Shit. Fucking unbelievable. God DAMN IT.”

Steve quickly strode over to stand directly in front of Tony, running his gaze over the teen’s body, looking for any serious injuries. “Are you okay Tony?” He asked.

Tony broke off his stream of profanity (Steve was impressed, the last time he had heard someone swear that much, he had been in the Army) and gave him an inscrutable look before he started laughing.

Steve was concerned. He didn’t think that another near death experience for Tony deserved laughter. He was trying to figure out the best way to get Tony to let him check for a concussion when Tony, still smiling, said, “I’m okay. You realize what this means right? Granddad is never going to let me fire you. It looks like we're going to be stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.”

Steve relaxed enough to smile back at Tony and then also beginning to chuckle, his post-fight adrenaline making him giddy. “Well, I hope you realize that tonight doesn’t exactly prove that you’re able to take care of yourself.”

Tony gave an affronted squawk, “Hey, not fair, I totally handled my guy on my own just fine!”

Steve smirked, “Sure, after I provided a distraction and then evened the odds.”

Tony grinned, “All part of my plan, Captain. I was just biding my time until you made an appearance. I knew that your whole stalker routine would lead you to me eventually.”

Whatever Steve was going to say next was derailed as one of the men on the ground groaned and shifted. Steve looked down and then back at Tony, “Why don’t you call the police while I deal with restraining these guys.” Tony nodded and pulled out his cellphone.

The next hour passed in a frenzy of police lights, checkups by paramedics, and Tony and Steve giving statements about the incident. Both Tony and Steve were cleared by the paramedics, although Tony had had his hands wrapped in dressings and the cut on his lip cleaned. Steve then listened as Tony explained how the men had been waiting for him in the alley and had tried to force him into the car at gunpoint before Steve had found them. Tony said that he had no idea who the men where or why they were interested in him.

After the third time Tony had been asked to repeat his story, Steve stepped in, firmly stating that “Mr. Stark has had a very exhausting evening and would like to go home. If you have any further questions for him, you can contact him tomorrow at his home. I am sure a representative from Stark Industries will be in touch with you to discuss questioning and prosecution of the attackers.”

Tony shot Steve a grateful look before covering a yawn with his hand. Steve steered Tony to a waiting police cruiser that had been assigned to take them back to Tony’s house. Steve would come collect his motorcycle tomorrow, there was no way he was letting Tony out of his sight now. Tony collapsed in the back seat, grinning, “Hey! The last time I was in the back of one of these, I was being arrested.”

Steve climbed in after him and didn’t deign to respond. After a few minutes, Tony fell asleep against the window, clearly drained. Steve looked at Tony’s profile and thought about his words from earlier, how they were now “stuck together.” Steve knew that now that he was aware that Tony was still in very real danger, he wouldn’t be able to simply leave Tony to his own devices, defenseless against future attacks. It didn’t matter what Tony did to try to drive him away, Steve was going to stay until the threat against Tony had been eliminated or Isaac found another competent bodyguard to take his place. It was the right thing to do. Steve felt strangely at peace with his decision. He was almost… excited when he thought about the future. The emotion was so foreign, that it took him a few minutes to identify it correctly.

The police cruiser eventually pulled up in front of Tony’s house and Steve gently shook Tony awake. Tony blinked his eyes open, looking around in confusion. Steve opened the door for Tony and Tony stumbled out of the police cruiser and up the steps to his front door. As soon as they were inside, Tony turned to look at Steve. “Feel free to use any of the guest rooms to crash. I guess we’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” Tony paused, looking conflicted, before continuing, “Since I’m probably going to be a dick about it tomorrow, tonight, I just wanted to say… Thank you.”

Before Steve could come up with an appropriate response, Tony had disappeared up the stairs and presumably into his bedroom. Steve followed more slowly and entered the first empty guest bedroom he found. Steve dropped onto the bed and was on his way to falling asleep almost immediately. One of the last conscious thoughts Steve had before sleep pulled him under was that tonight, chasing, finding and fighting with Tony was the most alive Steve had felt since waking up in this century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Steve and Tony finally meet!! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, kudoing, commenting, subscribing and bookmarking. You guys rock!


	5. How to Get Rid of Your Annoyingly Attractive Roommate (according to Tony Stark)

Tony stood in front of the mirror, admiring the bruising that had blossomed on the entire right side of his face. He knew that other bruises probably littered his body, covered by his pajamas, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at them right now.

_A lovely souvenir from the latest attempt to kidnap Tony Stark_ , _but admittedly not as shiny as the last one_ , he thought as he unconsciously rubbed a hand over the arc reactor. The hand he lifted to touch his face was shaking slightly. Tony clenched his hand and firmly told himself that he was fine, he was safe. There was no point in dwelling on what might have happened if the kidnapping plan had succeeded, because it hadn’t. Tony grimaced and pushed last night's close call and the nightmares that had followed out of his mind.

And now Tony had a lead, actual people in custody that he could question, that he could have JARVIS investigate. Maybe he would finally be a step closer to finding out how Stark Technology was getting into the wrong hands. All the people that he had interrogated about it so far had been strangely reluctant to talk to him. Although, to be fair, that might have been because he was doing his interrogating in the Iron Man suit while pointing rockets at them… well, hopefully Tony Stark would have better luck with the whole interrogation thing.

JARVIS interrupted Tony’s brooding, “Mr. Stark, Captain Daniels asked to be notified when you were awake and says that he is waiting for you in the kitchen.” Tony grimaced. Right. Before he could deal with his kidnappers, he had to deal with his mysterious bodyguard. Tony had read the file on Captain Steve Daniels that his granddad had given him, but the information in it was pretty sparse. Ex-Army Special Forces, multiple tours overseas, recently honorably discharged with multiple commendations, no prior experience being a bodyguard. All of his missions had been classified to a level that it would have been troublesome even for someone as skilled as Tony to get access to them.

When Tony had originally expressed his doubts to Isaac about Steve’s suitability, Isaac had just laughed and said that Steve was more than capable of handling anything that was thrown his way, up to and including Tony himself. One thing was for sure, Captain Steve Daniels was not like any bodyguard Tony had dealt with before.

He wasn’t used to having bodyguards that were that… persistent, or that vocal. Anyone else that had been forced to play hide and seek with Tony across the city would have given up after the first restaurant. And any other employee would certainly have hesitated to voice his real opinions to Tony. Which, okay, Tony sort of respected. Obviously, Steve’s opinions were stupid and glaringly wrong (and Tony was going to keep telling him so, loudly), but Tony supposed he had to give Steve props for voicing them?

Steve was also probably the most attractive person Tony had seen in real life, with his blond hair, classic features and piercing blue eyes.  And Tony hadn’t seen Steve shirtless (yet), but the gratifyingly tight t-shirt that he had been wearing last night didn’t do a lot to conceal Steve’s frankly ridiculous body. Who even had muscles that defined? Tony’s own body was nothing to sneeze at - months of training in the Iron Man suit had given him muscles that he had never had before - but his musculature trended towards lean instead of bulky.  And as awkward and stiffly uncomfortable as Steve had been inside the club, as soon as Tony had seen him fighting, it was clear that Steve’s body wasn’t just powerful, but also beautiful.

So sure Steve was stupid hot and they apparently made a good team when fighting together, but Tony was also fairly positive he hated (if not hated, then at least strongly resented) Steve. The way Steve looked at and spoke to him just rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Steve looked at him like he had already taken the full measure of Tony’s character and found it lacking. Steve spoke to him like he was an ignorant kid. Tony already had Howard to disapprove of him, he really didn’t need it from anyone else that was going to spend significant amounts of time with him.

Tony was also pretty sure that Steve had a stick wedged so far up his ass that is was possible he would never truly relax. And just because he was going to have to put up with Steve (for now), there was no way he was going to make this job easy for him. After all, the ultimate goal was still to get Steve to quit since after the events of last night (the whole “saving his life” thing), there was no way that Isaac would let Tony fire Steve. But it was all good, Tony had a plan!

Tony glanced at his face once more, silently resenting the fact that he was going into this confrontation with Steve looking anything less than his best. And there was no doubt in his mind that this was a confrontation. It seems his granddad had been right when he said Steve was just as stubborn as Tony. Deciding that it couldn’t be helped, Tony squared his shoulders and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

Steve was sitting at the island in his kitchen, bathed in sunlight that made his golden hair shine and drinking a glass of orange juice while reading the newspaper that Tony apparently still got delivered. Tony immediately resented that Steve had apparently walked away from last night's confrontation without a single scratch and was able to sit there looking practically angelic while Tony looked like he had been hit by a truck.

Steve immediately looked up as Tony entered the room, bright blue eyes locking on Tony. Tony could see Steve’s jaw clench as he took in Tony’s appearance - bruises and all - but Steve was silent. Deciding that he needed at least three cups of coffee if he was going to survive this conversation, Tony turned to his coffee maker which was strangely already full with a freshly brewed pot. Tony eyed the coffee warily while pouring it into his favorite mug (which read “Stand back! I’m going to try science”). Rounding on Steve, he blurted out, “Did you poison this coffee?”

Steve almost choked on his orange juice, “What? No! I just asked JARVIS what you normally have for breakfast and he said coffee.” Steve blushed faintly, “I figured that after last night, the least I could do was make breakfast.” Tony was on his way to being reluctantly charmed but then Steve ruined it by frowning, opening his big mouth, and saying in tone heavy with disapproval, “And then JARVIS told me that you usually only had coffee in the mornings, which I don’t think is very healthy.”

Oh good, for a second there Tony was worried he was dealing with a decent person instead of the asshole he knew Steve secretly was (the whole boy scout routine was not fooling Tony). And Tony was way better at dealing with assholes than decent people.

Tony took a sip of his coffee before replying, “Well, we can’t all grow up to be oversized action figures.”

Steve looked flustered again, “I didn’t always look like this.”

Tony smirked, “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that it was hearty breakfasts that turned you into six plus feet of pure muscle.”

“No! I didn’t…” looking frustrated, Steve ran a hand through his hair before getting up and walking to stand in front of Tony. “Look Tony - Mr. Stark - we clearly got off on the wrong foot last night and I was hoping that maybe we could start over.” Steve stuck out his hand, “Hi, I’m Captain Steve Daniels, it’s nice to meet you.”

Tony looked at Steve’s outstretched hand, before reluctantly taking it, “Hi Cap, I’m Tony - if you call me Mr. Stark again, I won’t hesitate to poison your drink - and no matter how many fresh starts we have, I’m probably still going to think you’re a prick.”

“Oh because you’re such a delight, _Mr. Stark,_ ” Steve snapped back.

Tony grinned, “Well as long as we know where we both stand, let’s get down to logistics. Like I said last night, there’s no way granddad is going to let _me_ get rid of _you_ after last night, so unless you want to quit right now -” Tony broke off, looking at Steve hopefully. Steve just gave Tony a _look,_ crossed his arms, and shook his head, so Tony barreled on, “- then we might as well figure out how to make your presence as least obnoxious as possible to me.”

Steve looked like he was forcing himself to ignore most of what Tony had just said and it was physically paining him. Latching on the first part of Tony’s sentence, Steve interrupted, “I already called Isaac and filled him on what happened last night. I figured he would want to start making arrangements for dealing with the men apprehended last night. He was relieved to hear that you were okay and said you should call him yourself as soon as you get a moment. ”

“Oh look at you, already reporting my every move to granddad,” Tony mocked. Ugh. This was the worst, Isaac was going to freak out and never let Tony do anything remotely fun ever again.

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure Isaac heard firsthand what happened and that you were okay rather than hearing about the incident from some gossip website that will no doubt pick up the story any minute,” Steve replied coldly.

Damn. Tony could already tell he was really going to hate it whenever Captain Goody Two-Shoes _might_ be right. Waving his hand, Tony decided to ignore Steve’s reply, “Whatever, like I said, we need to talk about how this thing is going to work. We need ground rules.”

Steve immediately nodded, looking determined. “Good idea. I know your history with bodyguards and I know last night was probably an attempt on your part to get me to quit, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re clearly deluded if you think that you don’t need some sort of extra protection. Obviously, the first thing that needs to be established is that you can’t go anywhere without me. I’ll need advanced notice of destinations so I can make an accurate risk assessment -”

Tony was horrified. He held up his hands and cut off Steve before he could continue to have _ideas_ , “Whoa there soldier, I don’t think you understand, I’m going to be the one laying down ground rules here. I’m not sure you quite understand the employer-employee relationship.” And obviously, Steve wouldn’t be employed by Tony long enough to actually make any changes to Tony’s routine. Steve seemed set on being Tony’s bodyguard, but Tony was pretty sure he could change Steve’s mind.

Steve resumed what seemed to be his default expression: scowling. Tony ignored it and plowed ahead, “I guess I have to put up with your presence outside of this house, but I really think that in public you should maintain a respectful distance and silence. Silence on your part is going to important for our working relationship, I think.”

Steve nodded grudgingly (if you could actually do that), “Fine, if that’s what you want. What about when we’re in the house?”

“Well, the house itself is practically a fortress - Granddad made sure of that before agreeing to let me live by myself. JARVIS is programmed to identify threats and alert us and there are security measures in place to help neutralize threats,” Tony replied. And seeing Steve’s stubborn expression, he unenthusiastically added, “If you want to review or update the house security, you can talk to JARVIS, I guess.”

Steve nodded with more grace this time. Tony didn’t want Steve to think he was actually cooperating so he added, “Within the house, my laboratory is completely off limits. The door is password and biometrically secured and I’m not giving you access.”

Steve looked mutinous, “That’s unacceptable, what if there’s an emergency in the lab and I need to get to you. I need an override code for the door, I promise I won’t -”

Tony cut off Steve with a curt, “No. Deal with it. My lab is mine alone. There’s way too much proprietary information inside to trust anyone I don’t know with access. For all I know, you could be a cleverly planted corporate spy.” And then with a deceptively sweet smile he continued, “But otherwise, feel free to make yourself at home. My house is, well, my house, but it’ll tolerate your presence, I guess. Oh and feel free to go out and do your own thing when I’m going to be in the house for an extended period of time. I pinky promise not to make any escape attempts.”

Steve snorted and gave Tony a look that clearly said he didn’t believe a word Tony said. _Damn,_ thought Tony, _there goes the easy escape plan. Whatever, I guess I’ll just have to apply my considerable intellect to giving Captain Buzzkill the slip._

“Is that all, Mr. Stark?” Steve asked in a voice that did not sound subordinate at all.

“Sure Cap! Don’t worry, I’ll make a list of the other house rules and post them somewhere prominent. Maybe ask JARVIS to play you a recording of them every night…”

Steve looked vaguely panicked, which Tony counted as a success. Tony finished coffee, gave Steve what he hoped was an ironic salute before pushing all thoughts of Steve and his muscles out of his mind and retreated to his lab to begin plotting - um, or rather, planning - how to get access to the men arrested last night. When Tony got to his lab, there were two voicemails waiting for him - both from his granddad.

In the first, Isaac was checking in on Tony and making sure he was okay after last night. Isaac then self-satisfiedly noted that he “was glad Steve was working out” and invited both of them over for dinner during the week or two. In the second, left just a few minutes ago, Isaac was harried and angry, explaining that when he had gone down to the police station this morning to begin dealing with Tony’s attackers, he had been told that the men had simply vanished from their cells during the night, along with all records of their arrest. _Well shit,_ it looked like Tony was going to have to do this the hard way. Tony groaned and settled down with JARVIS to begin scanning social media and getting access to traffic cams in the hope of finding video footage of his assailants or the car from last night.

And after he was done being awesome and tracking down wayward kidnappers, Tony was going to focus his entire being on subtly tormenting Steve into quitting. Steve seemed determined to “do the right thing” and stay on as Tony’s bodyguard, but Tony was positive that he could irritate him out of the position. Steve was so tightly wound, he would be easy to break. Tony sighed, clearly he was going to need way more coffee to get through the rest of this morning.

* * *

  **Tony Stark’s House Rules to Live and Die By**  
_With added commentary for ungrateful house guests (That’s you, Captain)_

  1. Tony’s lab is for Tony and invited guests only.   
_Steve, assume you are never an invited guest._
  2. If you find an unfinished invention of Tony’s laying around the house, DO NOT touch it.  
_Or feel free to touch them Steve, sometimes they electrocute people, so fingers crossed!_
  3. DO NOT mess around with Tony’s TiVo recordings on the TV. Tony gets cranky when he misses Master Chef.  
_Steve, you can set your own TiVo recordings, I guess. But be prepared to be mocked about your boring taste in TV. I just know you’re the type to like terrible things like documentaries._
  4. Do not hand Tony things. Tony doesn’t like to be handed things.  
_Steve, please accept all things handed to Tony on his behalf._
  5. Touch Tony’s coffee and die. Mess with Tony’s presets and modifications to the coffee maker and die.  
_I am so serious Steve. Don’t go there._
  6. Tony reserves the right to make any and all modifications he deems necessary to household appliances and electronics.  
_Yes Steve, modifying the microwave to set your food on fire was necessary._
  7. All requests and questions about household matters should be addressed to JARVIS, who, let’s face it, is way more on top of things like ordering food and scheduling the cleaners.  
_Don’t get any ideas Steve, JARVIS is on my side._
  8. Houseguests should, naturally, be required to feed Tony in return for living in this awesome house rent-free.  
_I like waffles and pizza._
  9. Cleaning is something that people who are less busy than Tony do.  
_You’re not that busy, right Steve? I mean, scowling and disapproving of all fun things only takes up so much time in a day?_
  10. Tony is always right. Deal with it.  
__DEAL WITH IT.__



* * *

Over the next week, Steve and Tony tried to figure out how to live with each other. They were spectacularly bad at it. Steve blamed it on Tony trying to get him to quit. Tony blamed it on Steve being ridiculously stubborn and refusing to quit. Tony also blamed Steve for “accidentally” erasing his entire backlog of Cutthroat Kitchen episodes (Tony had an inexplicable love for cooking reality TV shows), but that was a whole other argument. Tony was also pretty sure that Steve had done it on purpose in retaliation after Tony had made some adjustments to Steve’s shower (see Tony’s house rules, #6). Was it really Tony’s fault that said adjustments happened to include switching the hot and cold water and getting rid of the water pressure? And really Steve, “sabotage” was such an ugly word.

Steve generally avoided Tony when they were in the house together, probably because running into each other was generally enough to begin an argument. Tony couldn’t really help his instinct to rile Steve up (it was pretty easy) and when Steve was angry, he wasn’t great at keeping his opinions to himself. If Tony heard another disapproval-laden comment about his “weapons work” for Stark Industries, his partying, or his attempts to get rid of Steve, he just might punch something. Probably not Steve because Tony suspected that punching Steve’s rock solid muscles might actually lead to a broken or sprained hand for Tony and have no visible impact on Steve.

Tony spent most of his time in his lab, working on SI projects, tinkering with the Iron Man suit or trying to find leads on shady uses of SI tech. Interestingly, he hadn’t been able to find a single trace of his attempted kidnappers from the previous week. And he really should have been able to - Tony was a genius that had no ethical reservations about hacking security footage and police records. So it was slightly troubling that there was _nothing_ he could find about his kidnappers - unsettlingly, all records and images of them had disappeared. Tony knew that it would have taken someone with serious money, power or intelligence to so completely get rid of a trail that even Tony Stark couldn’t find it. And his grandfather hadn’t had any luck tracking down the missing kidnappers either. Tony was trying not to dwell on the possible imminent danger his life was in and instead was focusing his energy (when not engineering) into tormenting Steve.

Steve, according to JARVIS, spent the majority of his time reading, watching or TV or doing ridiculously intense workouts. Seriously, Tony’s home gym was suffering from workout-Steve’s ferocity. Tony assumed he also spent a significant amount of time brooding (Tony kind of wished he knew what Steve was brooding about, if only to use it against him), because whenever they did run into each other, Steve was generally scowly and moody. Although, now that he thought of it, Tony’s continual string of pranks _might_ be affecting Steve’s disposition.

When they left the house, Steve was still pretty scowly and moody, but at world instead of just at Tony. Tony supposed that refusing to tell Steve where they were going half the time (or telling him the wrong thing) _might_ be contributing to Steve’s brooding. Tony also like to make Steve run ridiculous errands for him when they were out of the house - all in the name of his continued safety, of course. After all, Tony couldn’t order his own coffee because there was a chance someone could put something in his drink! Naturally, this meant that Steve had to go and get it for him because Tony would _die_ without his coffee.

Tony also dragged Steve to as many parties and club outings as possible, mainly because they seemed to make Steve super uncomfortable, which was entertaining for Tony. Tony suspected that Steve was allergic to anyone having fun. Also, he had come to the conclusion that if Steve had already decided that Tony was a frivolous layabout then he might as well try to enjoy playing the role. However, dragging Steve to that strip club might have been taking things a little too far. Although, the entire experience had been hilarious - watching Steve stammer and blush through turning down the lap dance that Tony had tried to buy him had been the highlight of Tony’s week.

Steve took his revenge by generally being an awful bodyguard, in Tony’s opinion. At clubs, he refused to let Tony drink anything that wasn’t bottled and sealed - which really only left him with the option of drinking water, and Tony was _not_ drinking water while he was out. Tony’s most recent attempt to sneak a mixed drink at a bar behind Steve’s back had caused Steve to grab Tony (and the drink), haul him to the bathroom, and make him watch as his poor gin and tonic was poured down a sink. Tony mourned the waste of good alcohol and Steve looked smugly righteous. So Tony went back to the bar and ordered an entire - sealed - bottle of champagne and drank it in front of Steve. After that, the rest of the night was kind of a blur.

Steve also liked to voice his opinion about pretty much everything (Tony’s drinking, the danger of clubs, blah, blah, blah). Steve didn’t seem to hold with the notion that bodyguards should be seen and not heard.

And perhaps most horrendously, Steve loomed. He loomed over Tony while being all gorgeous and broody and scared away anyone that might have been trying to flirt with Tony. After one particularly harrowing encounter on the Caltech campus where the poor girl that had been trying to ask Tony out on a study date hadn’t even managed to finish her question, instead fleeing in terror because of Steve’s crazy eyes, Tony had caught Steve smirking and realized that something was up.

“Oh my god, are you being an awful bodyguard on purpose?” Tony had demanded. He was shocked and appalled by the fact that Steve might be knowingly trying to annoy Tony as much as Tony was annoying him.

“Are you being awful to protect purpose?” Steve had fired back. Which, yes, Tony was generally being as infuriating as possible but Steve wasn’t supposed to _retaliate._ Steve was supposed to take the abuse, silently fume, and then quit and leave Tony in peace! Steve was not following the plan!

Tony was at a loss. He had just gaped at Steve. Steve had continued to look smugly superior. Tony had resolved to double his efforts. But, the problem was, that after that, things began to… change. It’s was as if realizing that Steve apparently had a sense of humor (at least enough of one to mess with Tony) and knew how to smile was _important._ Tony quickly shut down that line of thinking and focused on making an elaborate plan to escape the house without Steve noticing.

Steve caught him. Tony had gotten as far as the garage only to find Steve leaning against his car, swinging Tony’s keys around his finger and smiling smugly. Tony remembered how nice Steve’s smile was and cursed.

After that, Tony kept trying to sneak out, more to see if he could outsmart Steve than out of any real desire to piss Steve off. Steve caught him every. single. time. It was awful. Strangely, Tony’s continued efforts to sneak out didn’t seem to make Steve angry. Instead of his amusement turning to frustration, Steve continued to meet every one of Tony’s (mostly half-hearted at this point) escape attempts with a smile.

Tony’s fourth escape attempt involved an ill-advised trip down a drainpipe that resulted in him lying on his back, in a bush, after a minor-ish slip and five foot fall. Tony was staring at the sky and debating never getting up again when Steve’s face popped into view above him. He was smiling. God it was awful, Steve’s smile was more blinding than the sun. “I was testing the structural integrity of the drainpipe!” Tony blurted out, despite the fact that Steve had yet to ask him a question.

“And after you were done with that, did you decide to test the structural integrity of this bush?” Steve asked, still smiling.

“Yes, obviously. I’m considering taking up botany, because you know, I don’t think it’s fair that I’ve been avoiding the less pure sciences. I mean, it’s not nice to make fun of biologists and psychologists, so I should probably stop doing that.” _Great job Tony_ , _I’m sure Steve will be super impressed with your science snobbery._

Steve laughed. _He laughed._ It was the first time Tony had heard him laugh, a real laugh, and not just a small chuckle or amused snort at Tony’s expense. Tony had a brief moment of madness where he thought about making sure that Steve laughed more often that was mercifully cut short when Steve extended his hand and pulled Tony up off of the ground.

Still laughing, Steve asked “Well, if you think psychology is beneath you, then I guess you don’t think too much of the humanities, huh?”

Tony was still a bit distracted by Steve’s… everything, and so just stood there blinking at Steve. Steve laughed some more and explained, “I was going to school for art before I joined the Army, so that’s about as far away from science as you can get. It’s no wonder I can’t understand anything when I sit in on your classes at Caltech.”

Tony finally regained enough control over his brain to smile back at Steve, “Don’t worry, no one in those classes really understands anything the professor is saying.”

“You do,” Steve replied easily.

“Well, yeah, because I’m awesome,” Tony shot back.

Steve’s smile grew even wider, if that was possible, “Obviously. How exactly did you end up in this bush, again?”

That was a low blow. Declining to answer, Tony sniffed, “You wouldn’t understand,” and staged a dignified and strategic retreat back to the house.

As he was leaving, Steve started laughing again and called out, “Tony, you might want to change your clothes. You have a bit of dirt - well, you have you a bit of dirt everywhere.”

\--------

The next time Tony found himself teasing Steve (and doing things like having JARVIS play “I Will Always Love You” from the movie “Bodyguard” whenever Steve walked into a room) with the intent of making him smile instead of angry, Tony had an epiphany. He was pretty sure that what he had been doing for the past few days could be characterized as some sort of messed up form of flirting. Tony was horrified. There was no way that he actually _liked_ Steve, right?

Sure, Tony kind of respected Steve for having the determination to put up with the way Tony had been acting because he thought it was _the right thing to do._ And as much as Tony liked to pretend otherwise, it didn’t stop him from noticing that Steve was just a distressingly good person, the type of person that always and effortlessly did the right thing. Steve held doors open for people, put money in the tip jar at Tony’s favorite coffee place every time they went, and one time, Tony had seen Steve chase a piece of homework all the way across a courtyard after it had been blown out of the hands of a girl discussing it with Tony. Finally, and perhaps most egregiously, Tony recognized that Steve was actually a good bodyguard (even though he would never admit as much to Steve).

Steve was also still a mystery, and Tony liked mysteries. He was a mystery that Tony was increasingly interested in solving. The only personal thing that Steve had told Tony was that he had been artist before being a soldier. And since Steve had volunteered that tidbit, Tony had found himself wanting to _know things_ about Steve. Tony had been stifling the urge to ask Steve hundreds of questions about himself because he knew that knowing more about Steve would just make it harder to stick to his plan to get him to quit.

And then there was the constant hum of arousal Tony felt around Steve that just got worse whenever Steve smiled. But that was just because Steve was unfairly attractive, if you were into the wholesome, all-American type. Which Tony definitely wasn’t, but it didn’t seem to be stopping his overactive imagination from picturing Steve naked. Plus, Tony was attracted to all kinds of people that he kind of hated.

So, none of that meant that Tony actually liked Steve, right?

Tony already had _people_ in his life, he didn’t need Steve. Tony had Pepper and Rhodey. Those were people Tony actually liked. And even though Pepper was in still in Massachusetts, finishing her MBA at Harvard, and Rhodey was going through Basic Officer Training in Alabama, Tony still spoke with them both regularly.  And sure, things had been kind of difficult since Tony’s kidnapping - they both still seemed to be struggling to deal with Tony’s disappearance, torture, and sudden reappearance, making more than one of their conversations strained. And now, with his whole secret identity thing, there was a lot that Tony was hiding from them. So actually, when pressed, Tony might be forced to admit that his best friends at the moment were his grandfather and his own artificial intelligence.

But that didn’t mean Tony was desperate or lonely enough to actually like Steve as a person. Except… recently... Tony had found himself enjoying having a real live person constantly around, even if that person seemed to live to argue with Tony. Tony also sometimes found himself secretly hoping that Steve wouldn’t quit, that Steve would be stubborn enough to eventually see through all of Tony’s bullshit and bravado. Maybe then Steve would want to stick around because he knew the real Tony and not just out of obligation to Isaac.

Oh shit! Tony did like Steve. Tony wanted to be Steve’s _friend._ Tony wanted to know everything there was to know about Steve, to make Steve smile all the time, and maybe to kiss Steve a little. And worst of all, Tony wanted to tell Steve things about himself, things no one else knew. Tony wanted to Steve to _like_ him back. Fuck. This was so bad.

Because Steve couldn’t stick around and be Tony’s bodyguard, friend and make-out partner. For one, if Steve stayed, he was basically guaranteed to find out or figure out that Tony was Iron Man. Or Tony might be tempted to do something catastrophically stupid like tell Steve about his secret identity. And Tony was under no illusions. No matter how much he liked Steve, he was pretty sure that Steve would never like him back. Steve was a good person and Tony probably wasn’t. Iron Man might be a good person, but Tony Stark wasn’t.

Tony had already spent too much time being awful to him and playing up his tabloid persona. If Steve stayed, he would just be another person for Tony to let down. Steve was just the latest person in Tony’s life that disapproved of his choices, that seemed to expect Tony to be a better person, and was disappointed when he failed - and that wouldn’t change. Tony knew firsthand how stubborn Steve was. There was no way he was changing his mind about Tony.

Steve didn’t (and wouldn’t) like Tony and if he stayed, Tony would end up losing the best part of his life - being Iron Man. So it didn’t matter how much Tony liked Steve, he had to go. Tony really needed a drink or ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and posted earlier than expected thanks to the number of kudos and subscriptions I've gotten! Hopefully, I'll be able to sustain the pace of posting a new chapter every few days. And I promise that the next chapter will be more exciting and move the plot along more! Thanks for reading :D


	6. Steve Rogers Deals with Emotions (also by assuming a superhero secret identity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Warnings: some depression-like symptoms, use of alcohol as a coping mechanism.

 Minutes after losing track of him, Steve found Tony out on the fire escape, clearly contemplating the best way to get to the ground. Tony was supposed to be inside the apartment, happily partying with what seemed to be a variety of D-list celebrities. “Don’t be an idiot,” Steve called out.

Tony’s head snapped to Steve, eyes widening, before he smirked, “Wow, for someone who has more brawn than brains, you sure seem to enjoy calling _me_ an idiot.” Giving Steve his most innocent look (which Steve now knew usually preceded a blatant lie), Tony continued, “ And I wasn’t going to do anything! I just came out to get some air.”  
  
“Sure you weren’t going to do anything,” snorted Steve, “And maybe I would stop calling you an idiot if you weren’t constantly putting yourself in danger _on purpose._ ” Steve knew he shouldn’t be saying it, but he was so frustrated with Tony. He just didn’t understand _why_ Tony was so resistant to the idea of a bodyguard.

Tony looked mutinous, “You know, I’m getting really sick of your sanctimonious preaching. You don’t actually know what’s best for me.”

Steve felt anger flare hotly, strong emotions never far from the surface when he was dealing with Tony. When they argued, Tony seemed to respond with one of two modes: either light teasing that seemed designed to amuse or exasperate Steve more than anything else, or sharp barbs clearly intended to actually hurt Steve - words designed to make it easier for Steve to walk away from him. It left Steve bewildered, feeling as if he was constantly being either pushed or pulled away, as if Tony couldn’t make up his mind whether he wanted Steve to leave or stay. Clearly, tonight’s argument was going to be one that left wounds.

Steve took a deep breath before replying, “It’s not just me that thinks you need extra protection, it’s your grandfather too. Are you going to claim that he doesn’t have your best interests at heart?”

Tony knocked back the rest of whatever had been in his glass, “You know, I’m getting pretty tired of you using my grandfather as a trump card whenever we have these arguments. I am not him.”

“No, you’re definitely not,” slipped out of Steve’s mouth before he could think about what the words implied.

Tony laughed bitterly, and gave Steve a calculating look, “No, I’m not. And you’re disappointed aren’t you? You took this job expecting me to be someone worthy of Isaac’s love. Well, maybe I accepted you as my bodyguard expecting you to be someone worthy of granddad’s respect, but you’re just a bully. It looks like we’re both doomed to disappointment. ”

Tony’s casually cruel words ripped through Steve. It reminded Steve of their very first conversation. Even then, Tony had excelled at knowing just what to say to Steve so his words had maximum impact. It was rare that someone could get to Steve so easily. After all, he had a lifetime of practice shrugging off insults, denigrations and disparaging comments. But for some unfathomable reason, Steve cared what Tony thought of him. Steve wanted Tony to listen to him and maybe actually tell Steve what was going on his head.

Desperate to make it stop, Steve asked the question that had been burning inside him for days, “Why are you doing this?” ‘This’ obviously referring to Tony’s continued attempts - both ridiculous and harsh - to make Steve quit.

Tony stared at Steve for a long time, something like regret in his expression, “I have my reasons, and they’re more important than you. Let’s go, I don’t feel much like partying anymore.”

\------

The next morning, Steve woke up feeling pretty awful. Before last night, Steve had actually thought he and Tony were making progress. Over the past few days, Tony’s antics had seemed to be tapering off, and his interactions with Steve (although still pretty minimal) had been lightly teasing and occasionally verging on friendly. Steve had been hoping that Tony was finally getting used to him, that Tony was maybe beginning to accept that Steve was here to stay and was toning down his attempts to get Steve to quit accordingly. But last night’s conversation had shattered any hopes Steve might have had to that effect.

Steve sighed and struggled to find the will to get out bed. He wasn’t looking forward to facing Tony this morning. He didn’t think that he could handle another argument like last night’s right now. If they argued again, Steve knew he was bound to say more hurtful things to Tony and drive him away further - which was a profoundly depressing though. Steve was back to feeling hollow, completely alone, except somehow, this was worse because he no longer had Isaac right there - and he couldn’t exactly call Isaac to complain to him about his own grandson. Steve hadn’t even realized that his ever present loneliness had begun to be disappear because of _Tony’s_ company until last night’s argument and ensuing cold silence broke whatever cautious bonds of friendship might have been forming.

Steve eventually decided that as much as he would like to, he couldn’t avoid Tony forever. He just had to get it over with. He got out of bed, and not bothering to change out of his pajamas (he wasn’t feeling up to his usual morning run right now - he would do it later), made his way downstairs. As he entered the kitchen, he mentally prepared himself to not respond to whatever barbs Tony might throw his way this morning. Instead of finding Tony, his eyes immediately fell on a stack of books sitting on the counter at the spot where Steve normally ate his breakfast.

Steve walked over and picking up the top book, he read aloud, “Physics for Dummies.” The next book was titled ‘Quantum Physics for Dummies’ and the rest of the books all seemed to be used introductory physics and engineering textbooks (Tony’s?). The last thing in pile was a sketchbook and a pack of artist’s pencils. Steve heard a noise from the doorway to the living room and looked up to see Tony hovering at the edge of kitchen. Steve just stood there, looking at Tony and holding an Electrical Engineering textbook in one hand and the sketchbook in the other. He must have looked pretty stupid, gaping at Tony, but he was honestly speechless.

Tony shifted on his feet and avoided meeting Steve’s gaze. Tony coughed, “Uh, those are for you. The books because I know you’ve been trying to pay attention and actually understand what’s happening in my Caltech classes, and it would probably go better if you had a physics and engineering foundation.”

Steve swallowed heavily before finding his voice, “And the sketchbook?” he asked, voice thick.

Tony fidgeted some more before finally meeting Steve’s eyes and giving him a weak smile, “And the sketchbook because I wanted you to have something to do in class when you inevitably get bored learning about semiconductors and whatnot - and trust me, you will get bored, well-adjusted people don’t love engineering as much as I do.”

Steve was stunned. He had come downstairs fully prepared to either continue fighting with Tony or find Tony coldly avoiding him. Instead, Tony had given him probably some of the most thoughtful presents Steve had ever received. Not even Isaac had thought to buy him art supplies. Steve was suddenly itching to start drawing again. All at once, it occurred to Steve that this might be Tony’s way of _apologizing_ for last night. Steve almost laughed out loud, of course Tony would never outright admit he was wrong, instead trusting the gifts to say it for him.

Steve smiled back at Tony, “Thank you Tony. This is really nice, I can’t wait to start reading.”

Tony looked relieved and his smile became a little brighter. Tony then shocked Steve again by asking, “Do you want to watch some TV?” Tony had never voluntarily offered to spend time with Steve before. Usually, whenever he saw Steve in the house, he either ran in the opposite direction or only stopped long enough to fling insults at Steve.

Steve felt happy and warm inside, “Sure Tony, I’ll even let you pick what we watch.”

“Please, like I was ever going to let you choose. I was right you know, you have pretty awful taste in TV. I mean, you can only watch so much History Channel before wanting to die of boredom.” Clearly, Tony had gotten over any lingering embarrassment about his gift and was back to being his usual self.

Steve quickly made himself a bowl of cereal and grabbed some fruit before joining Tony in the living room. “Are you going to make me watch reality TV?” He asked, genuinely concerned. According to his TiVo recordings, Tony’s taste in TV seemed to vacillate between fantasy and science-fiction shows and reality TV. Weirdly, Tony’s favorite reality TV programs all seemed to be cooking based. It was weird because Steve had never once seen Tony actually cook anything and he was fairly positive that if Tony tried, he would probably burn the house down. It was really a miracle that Tony had made it to 18 without starving.

Anyways, in all of the cooking reality TV shows that Steve had seen Tony watching, the people were terribly mean and awful - just like in regular reality TV. Steve didn’t much care for reality TV, but Tony seemed to like it. Although, he seemed to spend most of his time heckling the people on screen instead of actually watching the program.

“Yes, I am! But I think you’ll like this show, the people on it are really British - which means they’re all unnecessarily nice to each other while having questionable teeth. And there are sheep! So basically, you can’t hate anyone because they all genuinely support each other and there are occasional shots of cute animals.”

Tony seemed pretty excited, but Steve was still wary, “What’s the show called?”

“It’s called ‘The Great British Baking Show!’” replied Tony, practically bouncing in his place on the couch.

Steve smiled. “I do like baking.”

Steve settled on the opposite end of the couch from Tony and ate his breakfast while watching twelve people run around trying to make cakes. Steve was pleasantly surprised to find himself enjoying the show, just as Tony had predicted. At the first commercial break, Tony turned to Steve and demanded, “Well?”

Steve chuckled, “I like it Tony, it’s much better than the other shows you watch.”

“And it’s much better than everything on the history channel!”

“Well, I don’t know about that -” the rest of Steve’s sentence was cut off by Tony shushing him as the show started again. They watched two episodes together, trading commentary back and forth.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” Tony asked during another commercial break.

“Pie, I suppose?” Steve replied.

Tony snorted, “Of course it is, I can’t believe I didn’t guess. I wouldn’t have expected anything different from a nice American boy like you.”

Steve decided that this was probably not the best time to tell Tony that his birthday was the 4th of July. “Hey now, everyone loves pie,” Steve rebuked mildly, “What’s your favorite dessert then?”

Tony hummed, apparently giving the question serious thought, “Probably doughnuts. Especially the gourmet ones.”  
Steve was skeptical, “Gourmet doughnuts? Are they fancy doughnuts? They have those now?”

Tony laughed, “Yeah Steve, they have those now. Wow, you’re really missing out if you haven’t had one.” His expression turned dreamy, “There’s this one doughnut made with mocha dough, an espresso glaze and chocolate covered-espresso beans, it’s awesome. Probably the second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” Tony followed up this statement with a wink.

Steve blushed and studiously avoided thinking about what other things Tony might enjoy putting in his mouth. “I’m not sure it's good for you to have that much espresso in one sitting, but I guess I’ll have to try these fancy doughnuts.”

“That’s the spirit Steve! You’re no longer in the Army, live a little. Broaden your dessert horizons beyond pie!”

The rest of the day passed lazily, both of them choosing to stay in the living room, lounging. Instead of disappearing up to his lab, Tony remained on the couch, working on one of his Stark Pads. Steve switched between reading ‘Physics for Dummies’ and sketching. At one point, Steve found himself unconsciously beginning to sketch Tony, bent in concentration over his work, face illuminated by the glow of his tablet. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he quickly stopped, embarrassed, but he didn’t rip out the sketch. Steve thought he might finish it later, maybe when Tony wasn’t right in front of him and wouldn’t be able to notice Steve staring at him.

Steve was profoundly relieved that things were back to the way they had been before last night’s argument. He was almost dizzy with it. Steve knew that it was a bad idea to tie his emotional wellbeing in this new century to someone as mercurial and complicated as Tony Stark, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The kid was still a stranger to Steve in pretty much every way, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a lot less lonely when he was around Tony, even less lonely than he had felt living with Isaac. Tony was a lot of things (and not all of them were good), but he definitely wasn’t a diminutive presence. Just having Tony in the same room as him  - even if they weren’t talking - made Steve feel a bit more alive.

\-------

Unfortunately, by the next day, it seemed that Tony was back to his usual routine of avoiding Steve. No more presents and no more invitations to watch TV. Steve didn’t even see Tony for the entire day, with JARVIS reporting that “Sir was in his laboratory.” And after Steve questioned him further, JARVIS eventually admitted that “Sir had indeed brought food to the laboratory with him.” Although Steve didn’t think it was very safe for Tony to be eating in his lab, he was mostly just happy that Tony was bothering to eat at all.

Steve sighed, feeling strangely bereft without Tony’s company, and went about following his usual weekend routine. He went for his traditional run in the morning, trusting JARVIS and other safeguards he had put into place to tell him if Tony was attempting to sneak out while Steve was gone. Back at the house, he fixed himself a healthy breakfast while watching the news, catching himself up on some current events before dedicating an hour or two to history lessons, which these days mostly consisted of Steve looking up a hodgepodge of unfamiliar events, people and terms that Steve had recently encountered. He spent the rest of the day browsing the web, reading and doing some light sketching.

It felt fantastic to be drawing again. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he was able to recall scenes from his past with almost perfect clarity. And although he was avoiding drawing some of his more painful memories, he was finding it pretty therapeutic to draw the past as he remembered it. So he spent some time drawing his old neighborhood in Brooklyn or domestic moments from his childhood, all while steering clear of drawing scenes from the war, for now. He thought it would be a while before he was able to draw Bucky - or any of the Howling Commandos. It hurt a little to recapture on paper some of what he had lost and was still missing, but it was a good kind of hurt, like stretching muscles after a strenuous workout.

In the evening, he found himself in Tony’s home gym. The length of his stay in gym varied from night to night, usually depending on how his day had gone. Today, a day where Tony was back to shunning him, Steve knew that he was going to be working out for a good long while, trying to force his body to exhaustion. Unsurprisingly, he spent most of his workout thinking about Tony. Steve felt like a lot of his time lately was occupied by trying to figure out Tony Stark. Steve found Tony pretty confusing, mostly because he seemed to be composed of contradictions - and it didn’t help that day to day, Tony was drastically different with Steve.

In public, Tony was charming and charismatic. He had an endless stream of party invitations and propositions, but he seemed happier spending hours locked in his lab rather than being out with his adoring public. And despite Tony’s reputation - as well as the sheer amount of flirting that Tony engaged in - Steve had yet to see him actually bring someone home. Steve couldn’t reconcile the reckless, hedonistic Tony that the tabloids depicted with the Tony that loved engineering more than anything, was addicted to bad TV, and liked to spend his free time sabotaging Steve’s electronics.

Steve also couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Tony was still working for Stark Industries. Steve knew that Tony had been working on weapons R&D before his kidnapping and that fact had been the primary reason he _was_ kidnapped. Steve didn’t understand how Tony could continue doing work that had been responsible for nearly killing him. And more than that, Steve couldn’t understand why someone as brilliant as Tony was spending their time on making weapons _._

Before meeting him, Steve had known that Tony was a genius, but it had been an abstract piece of knowledge. However, this past week Steve had actually seen Tony’s mind in action as he shadowed Tony in his Caltech classes; he had heard him discuss, argue and collaborate with professors and fellow students. Tony’s mind, when it was focused on science (and not on making Steve’s life hell), was breathtaking. It made Steve want to spend hours inside Tony’s lab - which he had yet to see - watching him work. He was obviously smarter than everyone at Caltech, including his professors. Tony had the kind of mind that could change the world and it frustrated Steve that Tony wasn’t using it do that; it was like Tony believed that all he was good at was designing weapons.

And finally, Steve couldn’t understand how someone as intelligent as Tony could continue to stubbornly insist that he didn’t need a bodyguard. Tony’s antics - refusing to tell Steve where they were going before leaving the house, the constant escape attempts, ignoring practically every suggestion Steve made to increase his safety - were baffling when faced with the fact that Tony clearly knew he needed to be more concerned about his safety.

Steve might have understood Tony’s reluctance with his earlier bodyguards, when there had been no obvious threat to him, but now Tony had hard evidence - in the form of last week’s failed kidnapping attempt - that he was still in danger. Steve was furious that the men who had attacked Tony had somehow vanished. It meant that there were people still out there who wished Tony harm. Steve hated facing an unknown threat, it made him feel helpless.

Steve didn’t see how Tony could be so reckless and cavalier with his own safety. And it frustrated him that Tony’s campaign of terror to get Steve to quit seemed to have no visible end.

But sometimes, Steve found himself almost liking that Tony argued with him at every turn. It was rare that he found a person who was willing to stand up to him. Sure, Steve wished they were arguing (or talking) about things that mattered instead of about whatever harebrained scheme Tony had concocted most recently to put his life in danger, but he would take what he could get. And recently, their arguments seemed to devolve into teasing banter more often than not. Tony was surprisingly adept at defusing Steve’s anger when he felt like doing so.

And as often as Steve found himself infuriated with Tony, he also found himself enjoying the game of wits and wills they were engaged in - although he would never admit it to Tony. Sure, it was juvenile and his life and job would be a lot simple of Tony simply did as he was told, but it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting. For better or worse, Steve found Tony and life with Tony himself fascinating. _About as fascinating as car wreck_ , Steve thought to himself dryly.

Tony was quickly becoming the one thing in this new century that never failed to provoke a reaction from Steve. Anger, amusement, irritation, fondness - all were emotions that Tony could kindle in Steve with just a look, a word, or an ill-advised escape attempt via the drainpipe. Tony just got underneath his skin and stayed there. It was as grounding as it was confusing. Ever since he woke up in this new time Steve had felt adrift, but then Tony, with his unapologetic vitality, had crashed into his life. Tony made Steve want to stay in this time, even if it was just to knock some sense into him.

\------

Over the next few days, Tony continued to pretend that Steve didn’t exist. Tony was avoiding Steve in the house and only leaving it when necessary (mainly for classes), clearly preferring not to be in public when it meant being in close proximity with Steve. When they did leave the house, there was no obfuscating where they were going and there were no parties.

When they were together, Tony was barely talking to Steve. There was no friendly banter. And even more surprising, there wasn’t any teasing at Steve’s expense (no pointed comments about Steve’s clothes, “excessive manners,” or modern references that Steve invariably missed or misunderstood). Tony had even stopped asking Steve perform ridiculous tasks - like bringing Tony’s homework to the front of the classroom for him when he didn’t feel like getting up or buying him coffee. Before, Steve had always replied to these requests with his standard, “I’m your bodyguard, not your manservant,” or with crossed arms and an un-amused facial expression that he figured meant the same thing.

Tony had also completely stopped pulling pranks on Steve. Steve could once again safely use all appliances in the house without having to worry about them mysteriously malfunctioning, starting fires, or shocking him. Steve’s clothes had stopped going missing and turning up in unexpected places (Steve didn’t want to know how Tony had gotten all of his shoes on the roof). Steve’s Stark Phone and Stark Pad had been strangely cooperative recently, and his ringtone hadn’t been changed from its default to some horrible song in days. Most suspiciously, Tony wasn’t trying to escape anymore - either in public or from the house.

It was as if Tony had completely abandoned his clearly tried and true methods of getting bodyguards to quit. After all, it had obviously worked on the people hired before Steve. Steve was enduring Tony’s silence and spending a lot of time trying - and mostly failing - to figure out Tony’s motivation for suddenly ignoring Steve. The way Steve saw it, there were only a few possibilities. Tony could have finally accepted that Steve wasn’t going anywhere and was now sulking (unlikely, but the best possible scenario). Tony could be trying a new tactic to get him to quit: freezing him out (sadly, it might be more effective than all of Tony’s prior antics combined). And most worryingly (and most likely), Tony’s recent good behavior could be part of some larger scheme to lull Steve into a false sense of security before he did something really stupid and got himself killed.

Part of Steve was glad that Tony hadn’t done anything ridiculous to put himself in peril lately. But there was also a part of him that missed Tony, antics and all. Tony had withdrawn and Steve was back to being bored and alone in this new century. Steve wanted to ask Tony why he was ignoring Steve, but he knew Tony didn’t react well to probing questions - about himself or about his motives. For all his media exploits, Steve was quickly learning that the real Tony Stark was a private person who seemed to be holding onto a lot of secrets. So Tony and Steve continued to live in an uneasy silence.

On the two week anniversary of Steve saving Tony’s life (as Steve like to call it) or Tony graciously allowing Steve to work for him (as Tony liked to call it), Tony and Steve were invited over to Isaac’s for a dinner that was sure to surpassingly awkward for a multitude of reasons. For one, Tony still wasn’t speaking to Steve. For another, there was pretty much no part of Steve and Isaac’s friendship that they could be honest about in front of Tony.  After all, they were hiding a pretty big, superhero-sized, secret from Tony.

Sure enough, when JARVIS played Steve and Tony Isaac’s message about inviting them to dinner during one of the rare moments they happened to be together, Tony gave Steve a wide eyed look of panic. “He wants us to all have dinner. Together. Tonight,” Tony asked Steve in disbelief.

For once, Steve was in complete agreement with Tony. He could not believe Isaac thought that this dinner was a good idea. “I guess so,” he replied slowly.

“Was this your idea?” Tony demanded.

Steve stared Tony down. As if he would come up with an idea this bad.

“Fine. Do you think Grandpa would buy that I’m sick and can’t make it?”

Steve snorted.

Tony got a speculative gleam in his eye, “Do you think he would buy that you’re sick? I’m sure I have something somewhere that could give you some pretty convincing symptoms.”

Steve gave Tony an exasperated look, “I’m not letting you drug me, Tony. And I think Isaac is too smart to believe either of us is suddenly sick, don’t you? We’re not getting out of this, so we might as well deal with it.” And it wouldn’t be entirely awful - Steve would enjoy seeing Isaac in person again instead of just talking with him on the phone as they had been doing periodically since Steve had begun being Tony’s bodyguard.

Tony shot Steve a look of betrayal before laying his head down on the table in front of him and groaning, “This is going to be the worst dinner ever.”

Steve mostly agreed, but tried to be optimistic. Maybe with Isaac there as a buffer, Tony would actually talk to Steve. Maybe tonight would help Tony get over whatever causing him to give Steve the silent treatment.

* * *

**Interlude: Tony Literally Can’t Even**

****Isaac opened the door with a smile. “Steve, Tony! I’m so glad you could make it.”

Steve stepped forward, gave Isaac a hug and held out the tin he was carrying, “Hi Isaac. I baked cookies to add to dessert maybe?” Fuck. _Of course_ Steve had brought homemade cookies. It was such a suck-up move. Tony’s expensive bottle of wine suddenly seemed wholly inadequate.

After making exclamations over Steve’s cookies, Isaac turned to Tony and pulled him into a hug as well, “Tony, I’m glad to see you in one piece.” And yep, there was the guilt. Fantastic. Over Isaac’s shoulder, he could see Steve being hugged by Mrs. Trilby. Even she liked him? What fresh hell was this? Mrs. Trilby didn’t like anyone except Isaac. She barely tolerated Tony and he was a delight, thank you very much.

“Hey Grandpa, I bought that wine you like but refuse to buy for yourself except on special occasions.” Tony thrust the bottle of wine at Isaac, ignoring Steve’s judgmental eyes over Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac tsked and gave a little chuckle, “Tony, you shouldn’t have. Mostly because you’re 18 and I really don’t want to know how you managed to get the bottle in the first place.”

“What if I told you that Steve bought it for me?” Tony replied with an innocent expression, ignoring Steve’s sputtered sounds of outrage behind Isaac.

Isaac merely patted Tony’s shoulder fondly, “Oh Tony, I’m fairly positive Steve would never voluntarily give you alcohol.” Yes, obviously, Saint Steve would _never_ do anything illegal. Also, now that he was thinking about it, Tony was pretty sure that he had yet to see Steve drink a single sip of alcohol, which was just wrong - alcohol was great. Tony glared at Steve in suspicion. Steve gave Tony a confused look, obviously not privy to Tony’s internal monologue. Well, if Steve wanted to stay sober, it was his loss. There was no way Tony was making it through this dinner without copious amounts of alcohol.

Tony and Steve were led into the dining room, Isaac and Steve exchanging small talk while Tony trailed behind them. He wasn’t sulking per se, he was just making the personal choice not to engage in conversation. And it wasn’t as if there was anything he wanted to discuss with his grandfather in front of Steve anyways, thought Tony grumpily _._ But alas, his silence wasn’t meant to be. Halfway through the soup course, Isaac turned to Tony, “And how are you Tony? Are your classes going well?”

Tony looked up from his plate, “I’m fine, my classes are fine.” Silence descended over the table. No one spoke. After a few minutes, it began to be unbearably awkward. God, Tony had to do something. And if he was going to talk, he might as well try to satisfy some of his curiosity. “So, tell me more, how exactly did the two of you become friends?”

This question did nothing to defuse the situation. Instead of talking, Isaac and Steve were just looking at each other, clearly attempting to communicate via facial expression alone. In addition to being awkward, things were now tense. Finally, Isaac seemed to finish his silent commune with Steve and turned to Tony with a small smile, “As you know, I still have contacts and friends in the Armed Services who I occasionally do some consulting for when asked. I met Steve while providing some assistance to the Army, but unfortunately, most of that information is classified.”

It wasn’t anything Tony didn’t already know, “That’s all you’re going to give me? How did you two become so close?” Tony knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t help it.

Isaac shrugged, clearly intending to deflect the question when Steve interjected with a  fond smile, “Isaac saved my best friend. I can’t tell you more, but without Isaac’s help, a lot of people would have died.”

Isaac smiled back at Steve and shook his head, “Don’t listen to him, Tony. He’s greatly exaggerating my role and tremendously downplaying his own on that mission. Steve did most of the work, I just provided a little aerial assistance.”

Steve shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable at the praise. Isaac took pity on him and changed the topic, beginning to talk about some obscure military history topic (Tony heard the word “submarines” and stopped paying close attention) that was clearly part of an ongoing discussion between the two. Steve was animatedly participating, expression open and arms gesturing excitedly whenever he tried to explain something to Isaac. Tony was pretty sure that this was the first time he had seen Steve speak so much at one time and look happy while doing it. Tony felt a pang in his chest.

The rest of dinner passed much the same way, with Isaac and Steve carrying on the majority of the conversation between the two of them, regularly switching topics and covering everything from military history to current events to art. Apparently, Steve was still pretty skeptical of modern art, but was warming to some movements and certain artists. Tony mostly stayed silent. Isaac kept giving him concerned looks, undoubtedly not used to a Tony that voluntarily kept quiet. On the other hand, Steve didn’t seem to notice Tony’s silence. Tony supposed he couldn’t blame him, after all it had been days since he had said more than a word or two to Steve.

Tony had known that Steve and Isaac were close, but knowing was different from seeing their relationship in action. Steve was unguarded when talking to Isaac, fully relaxed and content in way that Tony had never seen before. And Isaac clearly respected and admired Steve. It was obvious to anyone that saw them interact that there was a lot of shared history between the two men, in addition to trust and affection.

It was a strange dynamic to see between two people who were so far apart in age and background. Tony couldn’t figure it out. Isaac was a world renowned physicist and a billionaire who had founded his own extremely successful company. What could Steve, a young soldier fresh out of the military, have done to so thoroughly earn Isaac’s friendship and deference? It was another Steve-centric mystery that Tony was probably never going to untangle.

And worst of all, Isaac looked at Steve with an open expression of fondness and concern - an expression that Tony was intimately familiar with as it was the same one that Isaac often wore when looking at him. It was becoming increasingly clear that Isaac considered Steve family. It was pretty awful. Tony couldn’t help the flashes of anger and jealousy that kept washing over him. It was just so clear that Steve had not only Isaac’s love, but also his respect, and Tony just… didn’t. Sure, Isaac loved Tony, but more often than not, his grandfather was disappointed in him. A fact that was made abundantly clear when Isaac pulled him aside as Tony and Steve were getting ready to leave.

Drawing him into an empty room, Isaac looked at Tony seriously, “Tony, I know that you and Steve still aren’t getting along. I don’t think I have to tell you how dispirited that makes me. I truly believe that you two of you could be great friends.” Isaac gave Tony a soft smile, “Try to reach out to him more? I think he could really benefit from your kindness - indeed, I think you could both benefit from a friendship between the two of you. Look at it as doing a favor for an old man.”

Tony was emotionally exhausted. He had been suppressing his thoughts and feelings for the entire evening, staying quiet when all he wanted to do was blurt out something hurtful towards Steve (at this point, a knee-jerk reaction to bring him down a peg or two) or something horrifically stupid like, “I am Iron Man.” Maybe if Isaac knew what he was doing in his spare time, he would give Tony the same proud smile he gave Steve. And on top of frustration and envy, Tony was now feeling guilty. He was never going to be able to get rid of Steve without breaking his granddad’s heart.

Desperate to end the conversation and just get out of there, Tony lied, “I’ll try.” Isaac gave Tony a delighted and hopeful smile that only succeeded in making Tony feel worse.

Tony and Isaac made their way back to the front door where everyone said their goodbyes. And finally, Tony was out of the house, taking in big gulps of fresh air. Tony just needed to forget that this entire evening had happened.

* * *

 “Tony… are you okay?” Tony was standing outside Isaac’s house, breathing heavily, hands clenched at his sides and body tense.

Tony refused to meet Steve’s gaze. “I’m fine Steve,” he replied tonelessly. It wasn’t even a good lie. Tony wasn’t trying at all, which was worrying. Steve wanted to pry, to ask what had happened to make Tony so upset. Was it something Isaac had said in private to Tony before they left? Steve wanted to shake Tony until he got some answers. But he knew that no matter how much he asked or how much he yelled, Tony wasn’t going to tell him anything. Any questioning from Steve would probably just upset him further.

“If you say so, Tony,” Steve eventually said, trying to keep skepticism out of his voice. He apparently wasn’t very successful.

Eyes blazing, Tony spoke softly, “Yes, I do say so. You’re not my friend, Steve. You’re my employee. My feelings are none of your concern.”

There it was, anger mixing with hurt and a bone-deep loneliness, a particular combination of emotions that Tony was an expert at provoking in Steve. And Steve wanted so badly to yell back, to say something that hurt Tony too, but he was just so - tired. Tired of fighting with Tony, tired of trying to figure him out. So Steve just sighed, “Alright Mr. Stark, are you ready to go home?”

All the fight seemed to drain out of Tony at Steve’s words. He looked away from Steve. “I don’t think so, let’s go out.”

One extremely silent car ride later and Steve was back at Exchange, the club where he had first met Tony. This time, instead of standing in an empty corner, he was right behind Tony, watching him hold court at a table in the VIP section, downing drink after drink as music pulsed in the background. Tony was smiling, laughing and flirting with anyone within earshot. Steve didn’t think that Tony’s smile quite reached his eyes. He had seen Tony genuinely happy and amused (not often, but he had seen it), and this was not the same. Steve really _really_ hated clubs.

Steve tried to push down his concern, but hours later, when Tony was barely remaining upright and unable to walk without stumbling, Steve felt vindicated. Steve had never seen Tony this drunk and was silently fuming. Steve knew that Tony used to get this intoxicated regularly before his kidnapping, but luckily for Steve, he had refrained from doing so recently, never progressing beyond tipsy when in public. Steve wished he knew what had driven Tony to need to drink this much. It required dedication for someone with Tony’s tolerance to achieve this level of drunkenness.

Tony pulled himself out of the embrace of a friend who had been supporting him, and began to make his way towards to Steve. But before he could get to Steve, the entirely flat floor proved to be too much for Tony to handle and he tripped, falling right into Steve’s arms. Steve scrambling to catch him and keep the kid upright.

“Whoa,” was all Tony had to say for himself.

“Mr. Stark, I think it would be for the best if we left.”

In an strange echo of one of their first conversations, Tony petulantly replied, “Don’t call me that,” words slurring.

Steve sighed, “Fine. Tony. You need to go home.”

Tony glared at Steve, but before he could begin arguing, Steve started to drag Tony through the club, one arm wrapped around Tony’s waist to keep him upright. Tony was a warm, solid presence against his side and Steve realized with a start that this was the first time he had ever touched more of Tony than just his hand. As Steve steered Tony to the exit, Tony was speaking, but his words were too disjointed and slurred for Steve to make any sense of what he was saying. He could probably safely assume that Tony was trying to yell at him.

Steve eventually got Tony outside and into the car, with minimal resistance from Tony. Silence reigned again on the drive back to Tony’s house. Tony was slumped against the window and Steve was positive Tony had passed out. Once back at the house, Steve picked up Tony - who was indeed unconscious - and carried him upstairs to his bedroom. Steve spared a moment to be thankful for his super strength.

Tony woke up a little as Steve laid him on his bed. Steve stood next to Tony’s bed, unsure of what to do next, internally debating whether he should get Tony a glass of water and some Advil or just leave him to deal with the repercussions of his drinking on his own. Eyes still closed, Tony groaned, “I can feel you judging Steve.”

Steve bristled, “It’s not good for you to drink this much. It’s not safe. You’re vulnerable like this.”

Tony laughed, but was forced and mocking. “Well, I have you to protect me don’t I? So I can drink as much as I want.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Steve replied.

Tony finally opened his eyes and looked up at Steve, “Why are you still here?”

“I was going to get you some water -”

Tony cut him off, “Not right now. I mean in general. Why you are still here in my house, in my life. Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Well, at least drunk Tony was honest - but that didn’t make his words hurt any less. In fact, it made it worse because Steve knew that Tony genuinely meant what he was saying. In all their arguments before, a part of Steve had always been hoping that Tony didn’t actually believe what he was saying, that he was just saying things he knew would make it more likely that Steve would quit.

Steve opened his mouth, but he had no idea how to answer Tony’s question. Was he here because he wanted to make Isaac happy? That he needed to be doing something otherwise he would go stir crazy? Or most pathetically, that he was lonely and clinging to the hope that Tony would one day wake up and decide to be his friend? Apparently, he took too long to answer because when he had finally collected his thoughts enough to try to say something coherent, he found that Tony had already rolled over and gone back to sleep.

Steve walked out of Tony’s room and into his own on autopilot, sinking down onto his bed. Thoughts and emotions were cascading through him and he couldn’t sort them out, couldn’t figure out what he was feeling. Hurt, guilt, anger, want, emptiness all tangled together, so after a few minutes, he decided to finally do what Tony wanted - he got up and left.

\------

Steve sat against the wall and watched as the split skin on his knuckles healed, broken skin becoming smooth underneath the drying blood. Adrenaline was still rushing through him, making him giddy. Steve had missed this. The truth was he needed it. And now that he might have found a way to have it again, he wasn’t giving it up.

Steve had been walking through Pasadena, hood up, hands in his pocket. He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, thoughts jumping between past and present, never settling on one topic long enough for it to hurt. It was the middle of the night - well, morning if Steve was going to be technical. At 3 AM, the streets of Pasadena were largely silent and empty. There was nothing to distract Steve from his thoughts. It was then he had heard the scream, before it had been sharply cut off. Before he could consciously make the decision, he was running towards the source of the noise.

Finding the entrance to a shadowed alley, Steve had seen a woman being held by one man - his hand clasped over her mouth - while another was rifling through the pockets of an unconscious man on the ground. The woman’s wide, frightened eyes had locked on Steve and abruptly, he was moving to act. Minutes later, both attackers were incapacitated and Steve was bending over the unconscious man, while the woman sobbed quietly behind him from where she was slumped on the ground. Steve had pressed his fingers to the man’s pulse, thankfully finding one. A quick scan had revealed minimal injuries besides the nasty cut on the man’s head, which was bleeding heavily. Steve had immediately stripped off his sweatshirt, pressing it the wound.

“Ma’am, can you come over here?” Steve had called out to the woman. She had looked over to where he was crouched and with a hiccup, gotten to her feet unsteadily and made her way over to Steve.

“Is -, is he going to be okay?” She had asked in a trembling voice.

Using his best Captain America voice, Steve had replied, “I think he’s going to be fine, but I need you to do something really important. I need you keep applying pressure to this wound to help stop the bleeding. While you do that, I’m going to call emergency services and get an ambulance and the police here.”

The woman had given him a shaky nod, and took over applying pressure to the wound, looking determined. Steve had pulled out his phone and dialed 911. Within minutes, he heard sirens approaching and panicked. God, Steve didn’t want to deal with answering the police’s questions and getting checked by the medics - he didn’t think he could handle it tonight. And he definitely didn’t want his name turning up in a police report for Isaac or Tony to discover at some later date. Because they would eventually discover it, of that Steve had no doubt.

Steve had quickly risen to his feet and the woman had given him a startled look. “I’m sorry ma’am, I have to go. The police are almost here, you’re going to be okay,” Steve had blurted out, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

The woman had just looked at him and as Steve was turning around, he had heard her whisper, “Thank you.” Steve ran.

After watching from the shadows of a building down the street, making sure that the police and the ambulance arrived on scene, Steve had continued to run, eventually finding himself leaning against the side of some empty building, forehead pressed against the cool stone. He had finally slid to the ground. Now, he was just sitting, watching his skin regrow, while his thoughts raced.

The problem was that Steve had been lying to himself for the past two weeks - ever since his last conversation with Isaac, when he accepted the bodyguard assignment. He had been telling himself that he didn’t need to be Captain America just yet, that maybe it was better to be just Steve Rogers - or Steve Daniels, he supposed - for a little while. But the truth was, he didn’t know how to be a Steve that wasn’t also Captain America. Captain America was an integral part of who he was and it was the one part of his past that was tangible and unchanged. Steve thought that if had Captain America, then maybe things in the future wouldn’t hurt so much.

Forcing himself to not be Captain America was an experience similar to what he imagined addicts went through when going through withdrawal. Saving those people tonight had given him the same rush and the same sense of pride that he had had after saving Tony, it made him feel alive. He wanted to chase that feeling forever because it was as close to happiness as he had come in this new century (he determinedly was not thinking about Tony). Being a hero was a habit he never wanted to break. Steve couldn’t believe he had gone without it for so long, but he was determined to never do so again. And sure, maybe Steve couldn’t be Captain America right now, but he could do… this. He didn’t need a uniform, shield or name to help people, and nobody would need to know that it was him doing it. After all, if Iron Man could be an anonymous freelance hero, so could Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Tony Finally Learns How to Play Nicely with Others (he skipped that unit in kindergarten)

 Tony woke up to a quiet house and a rather spectacular hangover. Fuck. It had been a while since he had been _this_ hung-over. Manfully ignoring the throbbing at his temples, he squinted up at the ceiling and focused on the quiet. It wasn’t that unusual for the house to be empty when Tony woke up. After all, Steve often went for a run in the mornings. But somehow, Tony didn’t think that Steve was out on his usual morning run today. 

Unfortunately, in addition to his pounding headache, nausea and light sensitivity, Tony also remembered everything from last night.  _ Everything _ . Including his horrible late night conversation with Steve in which he had told Steve to leave, permanently. And the fact that Steve had apparently bridal carried Tony up to his room. Tony thought accusingly that given the amount of alcohol he had drunk, he should have at least been granted a blackout.

Tony shut his eyes and groaned. He didn’t know what would be worse, Steve waiting downstairs to ambush him and start another one of their spectacular arguments or no Steve at all - a Steve that had finally decided to do what Tony had been working towards this entire time: leave.

After a few minutes of lying in bed, silently freaking out, Tony finally asked, “JARVIS, is Steve in the house?”

“No Sir, Captain Daniels left the premises at 2:46 AM and has yet to return,” JARVIS replied, in what Tony thought was an unnecessarily judgmental tone of voice for a computer program.

Okay. So Steve wasn’t here. That didn’t really mean anything. Tony sat up and immediately regretted the decision as his vision swam and head throbbed. Somehow, Tony got himself out of bed, and after brushing his teeth, drinking two glasses of water, taking approximately a million painkillers and showering, he felt slightly more human. Throughout the entire process, Tony avoided thinking about Steve. Then, when he couldn’t delay it any longer, Tony made his way out of his room. With trepidation, Tony found himself in front of Steve’s door. When he opened it, he would know for sure if Steve had left temporarily to cool off or if Steve was gone for good. Tony honestly couldn’t figure out which outcome he was hoping for, all of his emotions were mixing together in this giant tangled ball that was a sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Tony took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and promptly sagged with relief. All of Steve’s things were still in the room, including his sketchbook - which Tony knew he would never leave behind if he left permanently. Steve was going to come back - to at the very least get his stuff before leaving forever - and that made Tony ridiculously glad right up until the moment he remembered that it shouldn’t. And then he felt guilty. He shouldn’t be happy that Steve was maybe planning on staying. Instead, he should be sad that his latest attempt to get rid of Steve - however unplanned it may have been - had failed. 

Everything was just so muddled. Tony couldn’t decide if he was trying to drive Steve away or bring him closer. And after last night’s dinner, something in Tony had just snapped. It was just easier to push and push until people finally left rather than to actually let in anyone in. Because in the end, no matter what, people always left. Why should Steve be any different? He was probably out somewhere coming to the realization that his life would be way better if he could detach himself from the train wreck that was Tony Stark. And Tony really couldn’t blame him. Tony felt himself beginning to panic again, everything (particularly his feelings for Steve) seemed to be spiraling out of his control. And judging by the events of last night, clearly getting drunk wasn’t going to do anything to help the situation.

With a start, Tony realized what he needed. He needed to be in the suit, flying. He needed to be Iron Man. Tony hadn’t dared to venture out in the armor since Steve had officially moved in. After all, if Tony wasn’t actively being Iron Man, then there was no secret for Steve to discover. He had fully expected for Steve to have quit within a week, so it hadn’t been much of a hardship to temporarily abstain from using the armor. And it wasn’t until just now that he realized just how much he had been missing being in the suit. Being Iron Man centered him. 

When he was Iron Man, he had a purpose and he was... happy - or as close to happiness as Tony ever got. Being Iron Man allowed him to forget everything that was wrong with being Tony Stark and instead gave him only good things to focus on: apprehending criminals, saving lives, preserving the SI legacy, meeting fans. Being Iron Man was both an escape and an opportunity to feel hope for the future. It was something he desperately needed right now.

\-------

After a few hours spent following leads from JARVIS regarding Stark Industries technology that was being trafficked by gangs throughout California and eventually into Mexico, Tony landed back on the balcony outside his lab and stepped inside, machinery waiting to strip him out of the armor. Once out of the suit, Tony breathed a sigh of relief. He felt better. Sure, he still had no idea what to do about Steve, but he had proved something important to himself: that even when Steve was keeping tabs on him, he could still be Iron Man. That despite Steve’s propensity to catch him when he was sneaking out of the house as Tony Stark (Tony suspected JARVIS and an array of hidden motion sensors in the ground around the house were playing a large role in Steve’s success), Steve hadn’t come running or issued an alert when he had left the house in the air as Iron Man that morning. 

Even though Steve wasn’t physically in the house, Tony had no doubt that Steve was still monitoring him via JARVIS. Since Steve hadn’t outright quit (yet), there was no way that he would neglect his bodyguard duties even if he wasn’t physically in the house. So the fact that Tony had been able to leave as Iron Man was a huge deal. Actually accomplishing said feat had involved Tony having a spirited debate with JARVIS before leaving, in which he had argued that alerting Steve when he left the house as Iron Man was not in Tony’s best interests (and thus against JARVIS’s main operating parameter), even if alerting Steve when he left the house as Tony Stark was. 

Ultimately, it meant that even if Steve was stubborn enough to stay his bodyguard after what Tony had said last night, then there was still a way for Tony to be Iron Man - he just had to be extra careful and extra sneaky. Tony routinely locked himself in his lab for hours on end; now Tony knew that there would be no way for Steve to tell that he wasn’t actually in his lab, but was instead out in the armor. 

As Tony headed for the shower, he called out, “JARVIS, is Steve home yet?”

“No Sir, Captain Daniels has yet to return.”

Tony felt guilty at how relieved he was to hear JARVIS’s answer. If it were up to him, he would probably put off the upcoming confrontation between him and Steve forever. Tony was an expert in avoiding awkward confrontations. Humming to himself, Tony made his way downstairs before coming to a halt and staring in dismay at the kitchen. Tony was hungry but Steve wasn’t here. Oh god, Tony might actually have to cook. Apparently intuiting Tony’s helplessness in the kitchen, Steve had recently taken to leaving a plate of whatever he had made for breakfast, lunch or dinner on the counter for Tony to find whenever he emerged from the lab. 

Tony was pretty sure it was all part of an elaborate scheme to get him to stop doing things like modifying the toaster to burn “property of T. Stark” into all of Steve’s toast, but he didn’t care - he was getting free and delicious food out of it. Or maybe, it was all part of a plan to convince Tony that he couldn’t live without Steve. Which, if that were the case, Tony was afraid that it might be working. Unfortunately, Tony was fairly positive that Steve was just feeding him out of pity and the general goodness of his heat, much the same way he would try to feed a stray, helpless kitten.

Tony opened the fridge and gave the contents a dubious look, he was pretty sure he couldn’t screw up making eggs? On second thought, he should probably just stick with eating a pack of pop tarts - that seemed the safest option all around (partially because he had kind of forgotten exactly which of the kitchen appliances he had sabotaged and how). As Tony was waiting for his pop tarts to pop, he heard the front door open. Fuck. Steve was back.

Tony debated whether or not he should flee to his lab, but eventually decided that if he did that, he probably would hole-up in there, never leave and starve. And there was no way he was leaving behind his pop tarts to Steve’s mercy!  _ Better get this out of way now _ , he supposed, and promptly congratulated himself for his maturity.

Steve walked into the kitchen, looking momentarily surprised to see Tony before his face shut down, his expression turning stony. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, but looked slightly disheveled. And was that dried blood on his knuckles? Neither of them spoke. Tony stayed silent because apparently his newfound maturity didn’t extend to actually initiating the conversation he and Steve were about to have.

Finally, Steve broke the silence, “Tony.” Steve managed to sound like uttering just that one word pained him to the very depths of his soul. It was admittedly not the first time someone had used that tone of voice when saying Tony’s name.

“Steve,” Tony replied. “Are you okay? You seem to have some blood -” Tony cut off, gesturing at Steve’s hands.

“My wellbeing is none of your concern, Mr. Stark,” Steve said, parroting Tony’s own words from last night back at him. That was pretty bitchy, even for Steve. Although Tony supposed he deserved it after the way he had been ignoring Steve and especially after what he had said last night.

“Okay then…” Tony trailed off, not knowing what to say next. He just needed Steve to do something. To either tell him that things were okay or, more likely, to yell at him and get rid of some of the anger he must be feeling.

Steve was silent for a moment before his expression hardened with determination, “I may be your employee, but that doesn’t mean you get to treat me like dirt. You’re better than that. The rest of the world might not think you are, but I do and I know Isaac sure as hell does. So fine, we can keep ignoring each other - and I think that we should, it’s easier for everyone that way - but when we have to interact, I expect you to be civil. And I will be holding myself to the same standard. Last night you said you wanted a real employer-employee relationship. Fine. You have one.” And with that final word, Steve gave Tony a short nod, turned on his heel and went upstairs. After a few minutes, Tony heard the shower start up.

Tony stood motionless in the kitchen, speechless. The “ding” of the toaster finally jolted him into action, and he mechanically grabbed a plate to put his poptarts on. Tony felt a knot of dread forming inside of him. Steve was staying but he wanted things to remain cool and impersonal between them. No more fights, no more pranks, no more teasing, and definitely no more hanging out together. Tony hadn’t known what he had been hoping would happen between them, but he didn’t think he wanted… this. Continuing to ignore each other was somehow worse than Steve quitting. Maybe if Steve had quit, he and Tony could still have found a way to be friends. 

Tony was abruptly furious with Steve. Who was he to dictate the terms of their relationship? Tony Stark did whatever he wanted.  And how dare he tell Tony to be “better than that.” “Why don’t you ‘be better’ Steve?” Tony muttered under his breath to the toaster. What did Steve know about anything? But fine, if this was what Steve wanted then Tony would give it to him. And the less he had to deal with Steve, the more time Tony could spend “in his workshop” - AKA out as Iron Man. And then, he could channel all of his anger into beating up terrorists, which would be good for everyone (except the terrorists, he supposed). 

Tony pushed away any hurt and longing he might be feeling and kept his focus on his anger. Maybe Steve was right and Tony would be better off not wasting his time either trying to get rid of Steve or trying to be his friend. He had more important things to do than  _ Steve _ … probably. He would definitely think of some.

\-------

The next week passed pretty uneventfully. Tony and Steve kept to themselves, each carving out pieces of the house as their territory. Tony grudgingly ceded the library and the gym to Steve while thoroughly claiming the living room. Although the kitchen remained neutral territory, Tony was sadly back to foraging for his own food - it seemed that cooking for Tony was not in the scope of a proper “employer-employee relationship.” Tony was just glad that Steve didn’t know about any of his bots, otherwise he might have had to deal with some sort of joint custody agreement. 

Tony and Steve’s interactions remained stilted but Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about Steve, that something major had changed since their last argument. Steve seemed to have a new sense of determination. Tony supposed it could be attributed to their new relationship agreeing with Steve. And why wouldn’t it? What had Tony ever done other than make Steve miserable? At least now Steve barely had to deal with him.

Tony mostly tried to avoid thinking about Steve because whenever he did, he always felt a swift curl of disappointment - disappointment, he supposed, over a relationship that was never going to happen. Tony pushed aside any feelings that he might have had (feelings were distracting and useless and Tony didn’t want to deal with them) and instead focused on things that weren’t Steve: mainly Iron Man.

Now that he had Iron Man back, Tony spent a most of his time dismantling the trafficking ring that was operating on the west coast - while the traffickers illegally smuggled all sorts of things, they also were somehow obtaining and moving SI weapons, mainly selling them to drug cartels. The mission had the added benefit of introducing Tony to the gang life in and around LA (or rather, introducing Iron Man’s fist to the faces of gang members that were part of the smuggling ring), which put Iron Man in the position of helping his hometown. Tony thought it was pretty cool (it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside), but the press wasn’t too keen on Iron Man’s new activities. Half of the headlines were hysterically claiming that Iron Man was actually being employed by a gang to start a gang war, assassinate the mayor, or do something equally ridiculous. 

And speaking of headlines, the most interesting thing to happen all week happened in the newspapers. Apparently, LA had gained another crime-fighting vigilante that  the press were very unimaginatively calling “the LA Vigilante.” Honestly, reporters were the worst. Every morning, the papers seemed to be filled with stories of a hooded man dressed in dark blue who was apparently single handedly trying to clean up the streets of LA by stopping and capturing thieves, muggers, rapists, and drug dealers. 

According to the news, he always left his victims (if you could call captured criminals victims) with their hands and feet bound in red rope, ready to be found by the police after a called in anonymous tip. Tony appreciated the dramatic flair. The entire city was speculating as to who the man was, why he was doing what he was doing, and whether or not he was a “menace to society” as half the op-eds claimed. Tony was just as curious as everyone else, after all, he loved a good puzzle. But unlike the rest of the public, Tony though the most important questions about the whole situation was one no one had asked yet: how exactly was the vigilante managing to apprehend all these criminals night after night without any harm coming to himself?

Mostly, Tony was hoping that all the glowing testimonials from the people the guy had saved (and there were a lot of them, people were lining up to tell reporters how fantastic the vigilante was) were accurate. It would really be awful if this guy was gearing up to do something horrendously evil once he had lulled the entire city into a false sense of security. It would be just Tony’s luck to have to deal with a super villain in his own hometown. But for the moment, Tony was content to sit back and allow someone else to occupy the niche for negative superhero press. 

\------

Iron Man was investigating an empty warehouse that had been linked to one of the arms traffickers Tony had recently captured when he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. Iron Man turned around to find a hooded figure dressed entirely in dark blue watching him.

“Ah the LA Vigilante, I was wondering when we were going to meet!” Tony exclaimed, excited at the opportunity to finally get answers to some of his questions. Tony loved getting answers to his questions.

The man in blue tilted his head to the side, assessing the armor before replying, “Iron Man.”

A man of few words, it seemed. Well, Tony was happy to make up the deficit, “So what brings you to this lovely establishment? I don’t suppose you want my autograph? I’m something of a celebrity, if you haven’t heard.” Tony was going for the charm and disarm approach. If it worked on society debutantes it was bound to work on masked vigilantes, right?

The hood the vigilante was wearing covered his entire head and most of his face, leaving only his eyes and his mouth visible. Said mouth was currently frowning very hard in Iron Man’s direction. Tony sighed, apparently charm wasn’t going to win him this particular battle.

Neglecting to answer Tony’s very polite questions, the vigilante instead asked, “What are you doing here Iron Man? Were you looking for me?”

Tony laughed, “Well, someone has a very high opinion of themselves. Don’t get your panties in a twist muffin, I’m not stalking you. Some arms dealers that I’ve… talked to -” Tony was cut off with a snort from the hooded man and he glared from inside the armor, “Some arms dealers that I’ve  _ talked to  _ mentioned this warehouse, so I thought I would come check it out. What’s your excuse?”

The vigilante was silent, like he was considering not answering the question, which Tony thought would be pretty rude in light of how open and forthcoming Iron Man had just been. Finally, the man spoke, “Some local gang members that I’ve ‘talked to’,” now it was Tony’s turn to snort, “said that this warehouse and a few others were part of a smuggling operation. Thanks to you, I now know they were smuggling weapons.” The vigilante glanced to the door, clearly considering the conversation over and contemplating his departure.

“Hold on a second muffin,” Tony called out. There was no way this guy was leaving so soon, their conversation had barely started.

“Don’t call me that,” shot back the vigilante.

“Well there’s no way I’m going to call you the ‘LA Vigilante.’ I really can’t bring myself to say it with a straight face. So tell me muffin, what’s your endgame here? Why have you suddenly decided that LA needs saving? Are you working for someone?” Tony thought they were pretty reasonable questions. If he could make sure that the guy was on the up and up, then he could leave him alone… probably - unless he turned out to be interesting. Tony liked interesting things.

The vigilante stiffened, jaw visibly clenching, “I don’t work for anyone or answer to anyone but myself. And my reasons for my actions are my own. I’ve already told you more than you deserve.”

“Touchy aren’t we?”

“I take this seriously.”

Well, now Tony was starting to get pissed off. The guy was pretty self-righteous for someone that refused to explain their motives - to both Tony and the general public. “Are you saying that I don’t take ‘this’ - and I assume you mean catching bad guys, saving lives, doing the whole hero thing - seriously?”

“You have a personal agenda - and if it's a vendetta, then those can get dangerous quickly. I don’t know exactly what your end goal is, but I do know that you only use that shiny armor to target very specific sets of people - terrorists and organized crime. You could be doing so much more. Do you know how much I would give to be able to fly to people that needed my help?” Then to add insult to injury, the vigilante continued his rain-on-Iron-Man’s-parade spiel, with “And I think you enjoy the attention too much. You’re more flash than substance.”

Alright. Tony was officially angry. It figured that someone who had decided to clean up the streets themselves would be this sanctimonious. But screw him, Tony was an awesome hero. He wasn’t going to let this guy make him feel bad about the one thing in his life that Tony wasn’t screwing up. “You seem pretty sure of your opinions considering that they’ve probably been formed entirely from newspaper headlines,” Tony snapped.

“You’re not doing enough,” replied the vigilante calmly.

“And you are?” Tony replied. Oh, interesting. That hit a nerve. The vigilante had gone rigid again, mouth frowning - if he wasn’t careful, his face was going to get stuck that way. What was this guy capable of if he didn’t think that what he already was doing was good enough? When no reply seemed forthcoming, Tony mused, “You know, most people that talk to me the way you’ve been end up getting punched in the face. True, most of the people that insult me are criminals… but let’s just say that you’re not doing a lot to endear yourself to me.”

The vigilante laughed at that, “I could care less about endearing myself to you.”  
Okay, Tony had better things to do than deal with assholes like this (even if they filled out their spandex shirts nicely - which Tony definitely hadn’t noticed, nope), “You really should care, because it would be terrifyingly easy for me to capture the friendly neighborhood vigilante and drop him off at the nearest police station, maybe tied up in red rope - for the irony, you know. I’m not so sure that the police have the same glowing opinions about you as the public. And I know that everyone would be quite intrigued to see just what’s under that mask.”

The hooded man continued to smile, “I’d like to see you try,” he retorted, clearly not fazed by the threat. Which was also interesting, he wasn’t worried. It was as though he believed that he could win, if it came down to a fight between him and Iron Man, which definitely wasn’t possible if he was an average person. 

Well then, obviously there was only one way to get some of the answers Tony was looking for since clearly conversation didn’t seem to be working to well for him. “Alright then, I’ll give it a try,” Tony said and promptly punched the vigilante in the face. Or, well, he tried to punch the vigilante in the face. Instead of connecting, the punch missed, the man ducking out of the way with reflexes and speed that weren’t humanly possible (or so JARVIS helpfully informed him).  _ Very interesting.  _ And then they were trading blows in earnest. 

The vigilante fought with grace and fluidity, making it seem easy. But Tony - who has spent months training in the Iron Man suit and years before that in self-defense courses - could see how much practice and strategy contributed to every single move the hooded man was making. 

The first solid punch the vigilante landed on Iron Man dented the chest plate, the impact reverberating through the suit and sending Tony staggering back as JARVIS flashed warnings across his HUD. That  _ definitely _ wasn’t the strength of a normal human, which was obviously fascinating. 

Tony wasn’t using his repulsors or any of the other various weapons in the armor, trying to keep the fight on even footing. After all, the vigilante wasn’t using any weapons (clearly he hadn’t expected to be fighting anyone other than common criminals), just his body and brain - both clearly designed to do this. Tony wanted as much data on the man’s abilities as he could gather, so the obvious solution was to prolong the fight for as long as possible. And to be honest, this was the first time that anyone he’d fought had presented a real challenge, which was exhilarating. Tony’s blood singing with what was a truly good fight. Tanks had given him less trouble than this one unarmed guy. Tony abruptly decided that it didn’t matter how much of an asshole the vigilante might be, Tony desperately wanted to do this again.

Tony laughed with joy and called out, “Is that the best you can do?”

Tony thought he saw the corners of the vigilante’s mouth twitch upwards before the man was moving forward, faster than before and Tony had his legs swept out from underneath him as a hand pushed against his chest, pinning him to the floor of the warehouse. 

“Do you yield?” asked the vigilante.  
  
“Obviously not,” replied Tony and raised one of his gauntlets, palm glowing, and fired his repulsor for the first time since the fight had started. Even fired at a low strength, the blast was enough to throw the vigilante backwards, sending him sprawling on his back. Tony clambered back up to his feet and stood over the hooded man who lay on the floor, breathing heavily and watching Tony cautiously, as if trying to figure out what he would do next.

Tony extended a hand and after a moment of eyeing, as if expecting Tony to try to blast him again, the vigilante took it and pulled himself up. Tony appraised the man. He was definitely not boring. In fact, he was quite possibly interesting enough to merit Tony’s long-term attention. “I’m going to call you Nomad,” declared Tony.

The hooded man still seemed wary, which was ridiculous. It should have been obvious by now that Tony was definitely not going turn him into the police. The man wasn’t a thug or anything so pedestrian as a ‘vigilante.’ Instead, Nomad was a fascinating mystery, a beautiful fighter and maybe the only person in the world who could understand what Tony was going through as Iron Man. So Tony had decided he was going to make a friend.

“Nomad?” queried the hooded man.

“Well, I need a name to call you if we’re going to keep hanging out - unless you would prefer I stick with muffin?” The slightly panicked look Tony received in response made him laugh. 

“We’re going to keep ‘hanging out’?” asked Nomad, the colloquialism coming out stilted, as if the phrasing personally offended him. It was cute.

“Well obviously, we’re the only superheroes in LA, and possibly, the world. Really, it would be beneath us to be friends with anyone else.” This comment was met with silence and Tony really hoped he was coming across as suitably charming/interesting enough to entice Nomad into seeking out his company again. Tony was banking on the fact that Nomad had enjoyed their fight just as much as Tony had. After all, apprehending common criminals had to have started to get boring for him - they definitely wouldn’t present the type of challenge that Iron Man did.

“Friends,” Nomad finally stated, a small smile playing around his mouth. Oh man, Tony was  _ in.  _ They were going to be superhero bros and given enough time, Tony was pretty sure he could loosen the stick that was clearly wedged up Nomad’s ass (and consequently change his opinion of Iron Man’s frivolity). “What exactly would being friends with Iron Man entail?” Asked Nomad.

“Weeelllll…” drawled Tony, “I figured we would hang out, spar and maybe occasionally fight crime together, if the occasion called for it.”  _ And just maybe I’ll uncover all your secrets and discover what makes you tick,  _ added Tony silently. He thought it was a fair deal, after all he was potentially giving Nomad the same opportunity to try to figure out all of Iron Man’s secrets - not that the other hero would, of course.

A sharp bang - most likely a gunshot - reverberated through the air, clearly coming from nearby. Iron Man and Nomad had not chosen the nicest part of town for their standoff. Nomad’s head whipped around and he was off, running out of the warehouse and into the night without so much as a goodbye - which Tony thought was pretty rude and not at all the way you should treat new friends. Tony didn’t follow him. He was positive that Nomad had it covered and thought that maybe the other hero could use some time to get used to the idea that Iron Man wasn’t going anywhere and was in fact going to make a habit of tracking down Nomad.  _ Superbros _ , thought Tony gleefully.

\------

“What do you think of the LA vigilante?” A reporter had shouted, thrusting a microphone in his face as Iron Man was signing autographs on Hollywood Boulevard. Iron Man had been spotted in the air over LA as he flew back from running a few errands (i.e. destroying a weapons cache or three) in Mexico - JARVIS had alerted him to the live social media posts - so he thought he might as well stop and say hi to some of his adoring public. 

It had been two days since Iron Man and Nomad’s fight in the warehouse and the superheroes had yet to meet for a second time, but Tony wasn’t worried. He was pretty sure they would find each other again. He felt an inexplicable pull towards Nomad, a kinship that he supposed was based on mutual understanding. He hoped that Nomad felt the same way.

“You mean Nomad?” Tony had asked in response to the reporter’s question, not really paying attention (Tony had a lot of practice at not paying attention to reporters), instead focusing on the adorable kid wearing an Iron Man t-shirt. 

After that, things had gotten pretty hectic. Tony had gotten out of there as quickly as possible, ducking questions being shouted at him at increasingly higher volumes. All the reporters were in a tizzy over the fact that Iron Man and Nomad apparently knew each other well enough for Iron Man to know Nomad’s name - at least they didn't know that Iron Man had  _ given _ Nomad his name. Tony just hoped that Nomad one, liked the name (because there was no way it wasn’t going to be all over the news in a few hours) and two, didn’t mind getting a little more press. Or a lot more press. Tony sighed. On second thought, Nomad was probably going to punch Iron Man in the face the next time he saw him and dent another perfectly good part of the armor. Maybe having superhero friends was more trouble than it was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please feel free to leave comments :)


	8. Steve Makes a Friend (or two)

Steve spent his days skirting around Tony and his nights on the streets of LA. Since the morning of Steve’s ultimatum, he had only seen and spoken to Tony in the context of being his bodyguard. Which should have been good. When Steve had decreed that they were going to have a normal employer-employee relationship, he thought he had been doing the right thing - for both himself and Tony. Steve hoped that it would keep Tony from putting himself in danger just to goad Steve into quitting and that it would give Steve himself some much needed distance from Tony and the confusing tangle of emotions he ignited in Steve. But Steve wasn’t happier. Without Tony’s antics and chatter, his days had gone back to being empty and colorless. Steve was back to feeling much as he had when he had first woken up in this new time, listless and adrift.

If Steve had thought that Tony would be easier to deal with when he wasn’t intent on making Steve’s life… interesting, then he was sadly mistaken. Steve didn’t know how to deal with a Tony that was quiet and withdrawn, making all of their encounters even more stilted and awkward. It felt unnatural for Tony to be avoiding him, for Tony to always be coolly civil when he had previously spent so much time bating, teasing and arguing with Steve. Steve found himself continually feeling like something was missing and it didn’t take him long to realize that he was probably missing Tony.

As soon as he had the thought, he immediately shut it down. Tony was not his to miss. It didn’t matter how fascinating or magnetic Steve found Tony. They weren’t friends. Most days, they didn’t even like each other. They spent more time trying to rile each other up than they ever spent trying to get along and it wasn’t healthy for either of them. Steve had already spent too much time obsessing over Tony Stark, he had to _stop_.

It was using his powers to finally _do_ something again that made everything bearable. Being the “LA Vigilante” at night helped him forget just how much of a mess his life was during the day.

Well, he supposed he was no longer the “LA Vigilante.”

Iron Man had given him the name Nomad and then had “accidentally” given the name to the media, which of course loved it. Steve had to grudgingly admit that the name suited him much better than the “LA Vigilante.’ After all, he was essentially a man without a country - at the moment he had no allegiance to anyone other than himself and doing what he thought was right.

Steve didn’t really have a plan for what he was doing, which was unusual for him. He didn’t know how long he was going to keep being Nomad and he didn’t have some ultimate goal. He was just doing what felt right. Steve was following his gut instinct which said that right now, this was the best way for him to help people.

Steve did feel guilty that he was keeping what he was doing from Isaac, but he didn’t want to hear Isaac telling him that he had to stop being Nomad, as he probably would. Isaac would probably be concerned that the risks outweighed the benefits, but Steve had never been one to let that kind of thing stop him before.  Although, if it became known to the media and the public that Nomad had super-human abilities, then Steve didn’t doubt that Isaac would immediately guess Nomad’s identity.

In their most recent conversation, just a few days ago, Isaac had briefly mentioned the organization SHIELD again. SHIELD apparently stood for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Steve was still having trouble nailing down all of this centuries’ acronyms, but Isaac assured him that this wasn’t one that was well known.

Isaac hadn’t really been able to explain what exactly SHIELD did, but he had hinted that SHIELD might be looking to establish some sort of superhero initiative. Isaac said that so far, all he had heard were rumors about the project - which was apparently highly classified - but that he would keep Steve updated as he continued to feel out his contacts at SHIELD. If SHIELD really was interested in superheroes, then it seemed like Steve might be able to go back to being Captain America sooner rather than later. But for now, Steve had to be content with being Nomad. And these days, being Nomad meant also meant that he had Iron Man to make his life interesting.

But as fascinating as he was, Iron Man also presented a dilemma. Despite his promise that they would be “friends,” Steve wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was to let his alter ego spend more time with Iron Man. Iron Man was an unknown quantity and Steve had been serious when he said vendettas were dangerous. There was no way he could afford to be drawn into some unknown agenda of Iron Man’s. And Iron Man was clearly intelligent. Spending more time with him would just give him more opportunities to draw some sort of connection between Nomad, Steve Rogers and Captain America. Finally, Iron Man was flashy and did not take his job nearly as serious as he should, in Steve’s professional opinion. In short, there were a lot of reasons to not befriend Iron Man, but against his better judgement, Steve... well, Steve liked him.

The armor was amazing, fascinating and frankly, beautiful. Pictures and video footage didn’t do it justice. And fighting Iron Man had actually required strategy and effort. Quite simply it had been thrilling to have a worthy opponent. Steve had never had a friendly sparring partner that could seriously challenge him, and he couldn’t help wanting to fight Iron Man again - and he thought Iron Man might feel the same way. And Steve knew how isolating being a hero could be. Maybe Iron Man and Nomad could help each other, be there for each other. Steve was tired of being lonely and if he couldn’t be friends with Tony, maybe he could be friends with Iron Man. And if Nomad could convince Iron Man to do more - to reach his full potential as a hero - then so much the better. For better or worse, Nomad would be seeking out Iron Man again.

\------

Iron Man dropped Nomad on the roof before landing himself. Steve was grinning because that had gone _beautifully._ It almost made Steve wish he actually had someone to report to just so he could tell someone else how successful the operation had been.

Earlier that evening, Iron Man had found Nomad crouched on a fire escape, staking out another warehouse, and had opened the conversation with, “So… do you come here often?” Steve was convinced that if Iron Man had been capable of winking, one would have definitely accompanied the statement.

Steve had done his best to not let his amusement show on his face. “What brings you to this part of town, Iron Man?”

“It’s the company, really. I don’t hang out with just anyone on structurally unsound fire escapes.” Steve had continued to be reluctantly charmed.

After some verbal and literal prodding from Iron Man, Nomad had eventually revealed that the warehouse he was observing was the headquarters for one of the area’s major gangs and that recently, there had been whispers that said gang was involved in human trafficking. Nomad had been watching the warehouse for hours, trying to figure out just how many people were inside and how many entrances and exits there were, among other things. In response, Iron Man had activated his infrared vision and done a fly around of the building, and within minutes, Nomad had almost all of the information he needed.

“And now that I’ve done all of the boring recon work for you -” Steve had made a loud noise of protest, “- why don’t you let me help you with the fun part?” Iron Man had demanded.

“I didn’t think this was your type of thing, Iron Man,” Nomad had replied.

“Well, some wise guy in a hood recently told me that I could be doing ‘so much more,’ so I thought I might as well try his advice. But it’s probably going to end awfully because the guy seems to be more brawn than brains, you know?” Nomad had utilized his brawn to push Iron Man off the fire escape, which would admittedly have had more of an impact if Iron Man couldn’t fly.

What had followed was a lot of good natured bickering over Nomad’s proposed plan of action, but after a few minor modifications (made once Iron Man explained the capabilities of the armor more thoroughly), they were shaking hands and moving to opposite entrances of the warehouse. One large distraction later (provided by Iron Man strategically blowing up a wall or two), Nomad was evacuating civilians and then joining Iron Man in the actual fighting. Despite never having done so before, they had fought together flawlessly, with a complementarity that bordered on precognition.

And once all the criminals had been subdued and sirens could be heard approaching, Iron Man had grabbed Nomad around the waist and taken off into the air. Flying with Iron Man was easily one of the best things Steve had experienced since waking up. He had let out a loud whoop as they soared through the night. “It’s great isn’t it?” Iron Man had said into his ear, clearly reveling in the flight just as much as Steve despite the fact that he did this regularly. But if Steve could fly, he didn’t think he would ever get sick of it either.  And then they were both on a roof and Steve couldn’t stop smiling. He hoped that underneath the armor, Iron Man was smiling too.

“You see Shellhead, that went just fine. It looks like I was right, huh?” Steve said, unable to resist saying what amounted to a smug “I told you so.”

“Shellhead?” queried Iron Man.

“Well, I figured it’s only fair that I get to give you a nickname since you so kindly gave me one - and then shared it with the rest of the world.”

“Yeah - sorry about that. You can’t tell, but underneath the armor, I’m looking really contrite right now,” Iron Man said, not sounding contrite at all. And Steve supposed that settled the question of whether or not there was someone actually inside the armor.

Steve laughed, “It’s alright Shellhead, I suppose people were going to find out we’re teaming up eventually.”

“Is that what we’re doing, teaming up?” Iron Man asked. Steve wished that he could see Iron Man’s face - not to see what he looked like (although Steve was curious), but to be able to read his expressions. Steve couldn’t tell what Iron Man was thinking, if he was regretting ever offering his friendship.

“Yeah, I think it is - at least some of time. We work well together, better than we do apart, I think,” Steve replied. And he believed it. Steve hadn’t realized how desperately he missed fighting next to someone until he was fighting next to Iron Man. Iron Man wasn’t the Howling Commandos - no one ever would be. Fighting with him was different, but in some ways almost better. Steve liked that he hadn’t automatically deferred to Steve when they had been drawing up a plan. And it was exhilarating to fight beside someone who had similar super-human abilities like Steve.

Iron Man was silent for a moment and Steve held his breath, nervous. “Well then, I guess you’re right about this too, Nomad. Just don’t let your head get too big, I’m sure it’s a fluke.”

Steve breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled, “Whatever you say Shellhead. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re bound to have a good idea any day now.” Steve laughed when Iron Man let out a spluttering sound of protest instead of coming up with a retort. This was good, Steve thought. Nomad and Iron Man were going to be good together.

\--------

Steve knocked on the door to Tony’s lab. “Tony, if you’re going to class, we need to leave now.” There was no response. Steve hadn’t seen Tony in over 24 hours and he was starting to get a little worried.

“JARVIS, can you remind Tony that he has class?” Steve asked. Steve was firmly of the opinion that Tony needed to get out of his lab and out of the house. And Steve really thought that Tony should go to class, it was good for him. Even though he claimed to already know everything his professors were trying to teach him (which Steve didn’t doubt), Steve still believe it was good for Tony to talk and argue science with someone regularly.

“Sir says to inform you that he is not attending class today or tomorrow, that he is in the middle of a delicate project that cannot be interrupted.”

“Alright JARVIS, if that’s what Tony wants. Remind him to eat and sleep, would you?” Steve asked. Steve wished briefly that he was still allowed to yell at Tony, because this would have been a prime moment for yelling. Even though he and Tony weren’t exactly on the best terms currently, he still wanted - needed - Tony to take care of himself.

Steve sighed and went back downstairs, resigning himself to a lonely next two days. He paused on the stairs, internally debating, before asking, “JARVIS, could you let me know when Tony comes out of his lab? Thanks.” He wasn’t going to yell at Tony, but maybe he could try to gently talk to him.

Steve went out and did some patrolling as Nomad. He didn’t see Iron Man; he hadn’t seen him since the first time they fought together a few days ago - but he wasn’t worried. The media had informed him that Iron Man was overseas and Nomad knew that the other hero was probably busy tracking some terrorist network. The other night, Nomad had asked Iron Man why he was so focused on targeting specific groups. He had known the question was crossing one of the invisible lines that they were drawing between them, to keep each other safe, but he had needed to know.

Iron Man had been silent for a long time, long enough that Nomad was worried that he had asked a question that would cause Iron Man to get up, leave, and never look back. Finally, he had spoken, “I can’t tell you much, or anything really. Just that the people I try to stop are the same as the people that hurt someone I cared about.”  Steve had nodded. He had noticed the past tense of “cared,” and knew that Iron Man had probably lost someone important to him, helping set him on this path. Steve could respect that as a source of motivation, even if vengeance was potentially dangerous.

After stopping a car robbery and a drug deal, Steve came back to the house. There was still no sign of Tony and according to JARVIS, he still hadn’t left the lab. The next day passed similarly, with no sign of Tony during the day and no sign of Iron Man during the night, when he went out as Nomad. By the morning of third day of Tony locking himself in his lab, Steve was starting to get seriously concerned.

Steve found himself standing in front of the door to Tony’s lab again. And once again, Tony wasn’t answering Steve’s knocks. “JARVIS, can you put me through to Tony please, I need to talk to him.”

“Unfortunately Captain, Mr. Stark is not accepting any calls at the moment,” JARVIS replied, sounding apologetic. Okay. That was fine, it didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was happening.

“JARVIS, Tony is okay in there, right?” Steve asked.

JARVIS paused before answering, “Unfortunately, Mr. Stark has not given me permission to relay information about his status at this time.” Well, that wasn’t good.

“JARVIS, I need you to give Tony a message: Tony, it’s Steve. If you don’t video call me within the hour, showing me that you’re okay, I’m coming into the lab whether you approve it or not.” Steve needed to see that Tony was okay and in the house; that he hadn’t either somehow killed himself in his lab or finally found some way to escape without Steve finding out.

“I will relay the message when possible, Captain,” replied JARVIS. “When possible” did not sound promising. Steve turned and slumped down against the wall across from the lab door. He took out his phone and set the timer for one hour and resigned himself to waiting.

\--------

Steve watched the timer countdown: 00:03, 00:02, 00:01. At 00:00, his phone started beeping. Steve silenced it and asked, “JARVIS, can you let me into the lab, please?”

“Unfortunately Captain Daniels, I do not have the authority to grant you access at this time.” Steve sighed, he hadn’t thought JARVIS was going to let him in, but it had been worth a shot.

Steve went downstairs to the gym and picked up one of the heavier hand weights. He then went back upstairs to Tony’s lab. On either side of the door to the lab were long stretches of windows. Since Steve had moved in, the windows had been perpetually blacked out, preventing anyone standing outside the lab from seeing what was inside. Steve hefted the weight in his hand and putting the full force of his body behind it (the glass was most likely reinforced), slammed the weight into the glass. The glass shattered and Steve was finally looking into Tony Stark’s laboratory.

It was astounding, by far the most futuristic thing that Steve had seen since waking up. It was like something out of book or comic. The floor was shiny black, scattered with lights. The ceiling was high and the room open, interspersed with glowing bench tops littered with metal, wires, and other remnants of Tony’s inventions. Several large robots were in the room, but without a doubt the most jaw dropping part of the lab was the many floating screens suspended throughout. Unfortunately, the room was lacking what Steve thought was its most important component: Tony.

Steve looked around, not seeing any evidence of Tony’s presence (unless he was hiding behind one of the bench tops), before he spied a second door across the lab, leading to what looked like a second room. Steve was trying not to panic. There had to be a good reason Tony hadn’t come running when Steve had smashed through the window. Tony was going to be in the second room and he was going to be sleeping deeply, or maybe have his music playing so loud that he hadn’t heard anything. Tony was fine. Steve picked up the weight again and was walking towards the second door (ready to break another window), when he stepped on several pieces of paper.

Steve looked down. Littering the floor were what looked like letters. Steve looked around and saw a nearby benchtop covered in pieces of paper - the only paper in the room. The paper on the benchtop was in disarray, as were the pieces littering the floor. It looked like someone had swept their arm across the benchtop in frustration, sending the papers flying everywhere. Steve stooped down and picked up one of the letters.

 

> _Mr. Tony Stark,_
> 
> _The Stark Industries Board of Directors has reviewed your most recent proposal on prosthetics. Unfortunately, we do not think that pursuing your proposed line of research is feasible at this time. Please do continue to submit your proposals, we look forward to finding a project that we can work on together._
> 
> _Sincerely,  
> _ _Howard Stark  
> _ _CEO, Stark Industries_

A quick scan of the rest of the letters revealed that they all contained rejections of Tony’s proposals from Stark Industries. Tony’s proposals varied widely and included ideas on clean energy, electric cars, medical technology, and improvements to Stark Pads and Stark Phones. What was notably missing from all Tony’s project proposals were weapons. There wasn’t a single proposed schematic that could be used as a weapon. Steve shook his head, why hadn’t Tony told him that he was no longer working on weapons technology? Especially after all the times Steve had brought the issue up during their arguments. Why would he hide something like this?

Steve was still engrossed in reading the letters from SI and looking at all the enclosed schematics when he heard a loud bang from what sounded like the balcony he knew was attached to the lab. _It must be connected to the other room,_ he thought. He then heard a series of clangs emanate from the as yet unseen room. Steve dropped the schematic for accelerated wound healing that he had been reading and began to make his way over to the door when suddenly it opened and a sweaty, disheveled Tony Stark stumbled out.

Tony was only dressed in a pair yoga pants and a tank top, both of which were soaked with sweat in places and covered in streaks of what looked like motor oil, dirt, and was that blood on the hem of his top? Tony’s hair was standing on end, like he had just taken off a helmet or spent hours running his hands through it. Steve distractedly thought that even when he was in complete disarray, Tony still looked good.

Tony was flushed and breathing heavily, his eyes wide and locked on Steve. “Steve,” he gasped, “What are you doing in here?”

Steve didn’t even know where to start, “Are you okay?” seemed like the safest option and the only opening statement Steve felt he could make without starting to yell.

Tony blinked at him, “Yeah Steve I’m fine. And don’t you think that breaking into my lab is taking things a little far, even for you?”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have needed to break into your lab Tony, if you had just bothered to talk to me once in the past three days!” Well, there was yelling. Steve knew he was breaking his own rule to keep things civil between them, but he was beyond caring. He wanted answers from Tony and he wanted them now.

Tony had the gall to look offended, “I was busy! I had important things to do! My life doesn’t revolve around doing what you tell me to, Cap!”

Tony was _infuriating_. “I’m not saying that what you were doing wasn’t important. I’m not saying that you had to go to class or even leave your darn lab once in three days - although I really think you should have done both. All I needed was visual confirmation that you weren’t missing or hurt! What else was I supposed to do when JARVIS refused to give me updates on your status and you wouldn’t take my calls? I was just trying to do my job.” Steve was clearly in the right here.

“I don’t care, whatever I did didn’t warrant you fucking forcing your way into my lab - invading my privacy. You should know all about fucking proportional responses, Captain,” Tony yelled back, his eyes flashing and cheeks pink. It was the most animated that Steve had seen him in weeks.

“Well Tony, I honestly don’t see what you’re so concerned about me finding in here. Unless it’s me figuring out that you’re actually a much better person than you’ve been pretending to be,” Steve said, pointing at the stack of letters from SI. “Which is complete bullshit if you ask me.”

Tony flushed further and crossed his arms defensively, eyes darting over to piles of paper and then back to Steve. Tony bristled and straightened, as if preparing to keep yelling, before he suddenly visibly deflated, posture slumping and arms uncrossing. Tony looked down and sighed before finally looking back at Steve with a small smile, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear. I honestly didn’t think you knew how to.”

Steve scoffed, “Tony, I was in the Army. Obviously, I know how to swear.”

Tony stared at Steve before blurting out, “Why did you leave the military?” Oh boy, that was a loaded question; one that Steve didn’t really know how to answer without giving everything away. But Steve thought the question might be meant as a peace offering, as a way to avoid the argument that had been building and maybe build a tentative truce between them.

Steve took in a shaky breath as flashes of cold, dark, can’t breathe and _Bucky_ echoed through his mind. He obviously couldn’t tell Tony the truth, but he could give him a closest version of it. “I lost both of parents pretty early on. After that, my family was my best friend, B-, James. We enlisted together and fought in the same unit. But he died in combat - one of those senseless deaths. After that, I did something pretty self-destructive on an operation. When the operation ended - it was the last part of my overall mission - I knew that I didn’t want to keep fighting if I couldn’t do it next to my best friend. So I left. I was pretty alone and trying to build some sort of life outside of the Army until I found Isaac and he suggested this job.” Steve felt something loosen a little in him when he talked about Bucky.

Tony listened to Steve’s answer with a sharp, hungry look that startled Steve. It was an interesting thought - that Tony might want to know things about Steve just as much as Steve wanted to know things about Tony. By the end of his story, Tony was looking at Steve with wide eyes and biting his lip, “I’m sorry that you lost him, nobody deserves that. Is James why you joined the military in the first place?”

Steve gave Tony a small smile, “He was part of it. But I always wanted to fight for my country; I enlisted as soon as could. I don’t like bullies.”

Tony nodded, but remained silent, still worrying his lip. Steve wished he knew what Tony was thinking. Steve had been judging Tony since the moment they met, judging him and often finding him falling short of Steve’s expectations. Tony was smart, wealthy, charismatic, and Isaac’s grandson - how could Steve not hold him to a higher standard? But if he had been wrong about this one part of Tony - if he had been wrong about Tony preferring to use his brain to make weapons than to make the world better - then what else had he been wrong about?

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve eventually inquired, breaking the silence.

Tony laughed, “Is this a slumber party? Are we going to braid each other’s hair, talk about our feelings, and share secrets?”

Steve gave Tony a serious look, “We can if you want - swap secrets, that is.” Steve wanted Tony to talk, he wanted a glimpse at what made Tony tick. And if getting that glimpse took sharing more of his own past, then he was willing to do it. Tony tilted his head to the side before nodding once, giving Steve the go-ahead to ask his question.

“Why aren’t you making weapons for SI?” Steve wanted desperately to know. He felt as if maybe getting the answer to this question would finally help him understand Tony.

Tony gave Steve a considering look, clearly deciding how to react to the question. Steve hoped that there wouldn’t be more yelling. Eventually, Tony looked away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and began to speak, “Of course I’m no longer making weapons for SI. Building weapons is what got me kidnapped.”

Then, Tony met Steve’s eyes, his expression fiery. “But you knew that already. What you don’t know - and what isn’t in the file on my kidnapping - is that the people that kidnapped me already had some Stark Industries weapons that they were trying to force me to modify, to improve. One of the SI bombs blew up while I was working on it, trying to create something I could use to escape. It almost killed me. I still have the scars -” Tony broke off, his hand coming up to rub his chest before continuing quietly, “I never really liked it you know, building weapons. It was something I did because it was expected of me and because I was good at it, not because I particularly wanted to be doing it. I want to build better things than weapons.”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.”

Steve quickly jumped in, “No! I mean, I’m glad that you told me.” And Steve was, he thought that those few sentences were the closest he had come to seeing the real Tony Stark since Steve had met him, and he wanted to see more.

Tony bit his lip again and spoke, sounding unsure for perhaps the first time in their acquaintanceship, “Cap, Steve, the morning after we first met, you asked if we could start over. Is that offer still on the table?”

Steve took in a careful breath, “Yes Tony, of course. What exactly were you thinking?”

Tony smiled, sweet and genuine, and Steve felt something inside of him flutter, “I was thinking that I’ll try to be less of an annoying asshole on purpose, and you can try to be less of a judgmental asshole? And who knows, maybe we’ll find out that we actually like each other.”

Steve laughed, feeling ten times lighter. “Tony, are you asking me to be your friend?” Tony blushed but didn’t deny it.

“Friends?” Steve asked and stuck out his hand for Tony to shake. He hadn’t known it until just now, when the offer was on the table, but he desperately wanted him and Tony to be on good terms.

Tony looked at Steve’s outstretched hand and then back to Steve’s face, and laughed as well. “Friends,” he said, stepping forward, grasping Steve’s hand in his own and giving him a blinding smile. Steve felt the warmth from Tony’s hand rush through his body, leaving a tingling in its wake. Realizing he had been holding Tony’s hand (and gazing into Tony’s eyes) for several seconds longer than was strictly necessary, Steve quickly dropped Tony’s hand and stepped away, getting some space between them. Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem to notice Steve’s momentary awkwardness.

Tony looked at Steve with bright, happy eyes, “Can the first official act of our friendship be you feeding me? I’m starving and I’ve missed your cooking desperately.”

“Should I suspect ulterior motives for your offer friendship?” Steve asked, amused.

“Suspect whatever you want as long as you make me food!” Tony replied cheerfully, already moving towards the door and side stepping the broken glass littering the floor. “And JARVIS, get some contractors in here tomorrow to fix this window.”

Steve flushed, embarrassed, “Tony, I really am sorry about breaking the window. I just thought it was necessary. You don’t have to pay someone to come fix it, I’ll do it - I’m good with my hands.”

Tony turned and gave Steve a pretty thorough once over, “I’ll just bet you are. Alright JARVIS, cancel the contractors but order a new pane of glass and have it delivered tomorrow! Now food, come on Steve, there’s plenty of time for you to feel horribly guilty later, I promise.”

Steve was helpless to do anything other than follow Tony as he left the lab, chattering excitedly about what exactly he wanted Steve to cook. Steve felt elated. He was vaguely shocked that finally figuring out Tony Stark - at least a little bit - was making him feel this happy. But Steve was determined, he wasn’t going to screw up this chance to make being Tony’s bodyguard - and friend - work. And maybe, one day soon, when he was ready to leave and be Captain America again, he would be able to tell Tony the entire truth about Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone that has subscribed, bookmarked, and left kudos. A special thank you to everyone that's commented!
> 
> This will probably be my last update for an entire week (I'll probably post next Monday or Tuesday). But expect a decent amount of fluff in the next chapter as Tony and Steve finally figure out this friendship thing.


	9. Tony Stark has a Heart (and other realizations)

It was a little alarming how much relief Tony felt once the truce between him and Steve had been called. Tony had spent so long worrying about Steve’s presence in his life that it was startling to no longer have to suppress how much he liked being around Steve. Tony still couldn’t quite believe that it was happening, that he and Steve were not only going to be civil to each other, but were actively going to try to be nice to each other. And Tony was determined to not mess things up this time. So Tony needed another plan, with multiple well-thought-out phases.

His first plan - the one with the end goal of getting Steve to quit - had admittedly not gone great. Or had it? Technically the plan had failed because Steve was still here, but Tony was also pretty happy that Steve had been too stubborn to leave? Whatever. It didn't matter. Tony had a new, awesome plan and he was going to befriend the shit out of Steve. Sure, Tony wasn’t _that_ much better than the person he had been pretending to be this entire time, but he was mostly hoping that he could con Steve into liking him. After all, if he couldn’t get Steve to quit, then the next best thing was convincing him to like Tony enough so that if he ever discovered Tony’s secret, he wouldn’t tell the world who Iron Man really was. Hence the plan.

Tony was amazed that they were here at all. That somehow Tony’s fuckup (AKA accidentally disappearing for three days) hadn’t actually fucked things up. It was a stroke of unusually good luck for Tony.

The moment he had seen Steve standing in the middle of his lab, surrounded by broken glass, Tony had begun to prepare himself for another classic Steve-Tony blowup. Tony had been _ready,_ words sharpened, insults primed and then Steve had called him out on his real work for SI. And Tony had felt all of his carefully cultivated anger drain away, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Tony was bone-tired of fighting Steve, of making things awful just to get Steve to quit. He was sick of ignoring the impulse to make Steve smile. In that moment he had let himself imagine just how good it would feel to not have to fight against the compulsion to be nice to Steve, and it had felt wonderful. So he hadn’t, fought the compulsion, that was.

All it took was a few genuine questions and revealing just how much Tony cared about inventing good things to win him a fresh start with Steve. So now, Tony got to make Steve happy as much as he wanted without feeling guilty.

Tony had even made his peace with the possibility that Steve - since he was apparently here to stay - might figure out Tony’s superhero-sized secret. Judging by recent events (Tony being away as Iron Man for three days straight without being caught), Tony thought he could be fairly confident about keeping his double life hidden from Steve. Although, going forward, he would be sure to be much more careful - Steve had been minutes away from finding the room where he kept all of his suits and related schematics.

But even if Steve discovered that Tony was Iron Man, Tony was no longer positive that it would be disaster. Which was a rather disconcerting thought considering the lengths Tony had been prepared to go to in order to get rid of Steve. Now that Tony understood Steve better, he realized that Steve would probably even understand, that he might be one of the few people who would get why Tony was doing what he was doing. And Tony believed that Steve wouldn’t tell anyone Tony’s secret if he thought Tony was doing the right thing. Steve was a huge sucker for people trying to do the right thing, a fact that Tony would ruthlessly exploit if necessary.

Tony had tried to figure out why Steve was different, why he felt so compelled to keep him. Tony generally liked people, but he was rarely fascinated by someone the way he was fascinated by Steve. Most people, while entertaining, were rarely interesting enough to capture and keep Tony’s attention. So why did Steve do so effortlessly?

Maybe it was because Steve was smart and snarky enough to keep up with Tony. Or maybe it was because Steve was principled and good and always challenged Tony to be the same. Possibly it was because Steve was gorgeous, but seemingly unaware of the effect he had on other people. Or perhaps the fascination lay in the fact that Steve might be just as lonely and messed up as Tony was. Ultimately, Tony guessed it didn’t really matter _why_. Tony suspected that Steve was extraordinary, and he was determined to make Steve his.

\-------

THE PLAN

Codename: Operation BFF (Because Steve is hilariously bad at acronyms. Seriously, who doesn’t know what LOL stands for?)

 **Phase 1** : Prove Steve wrong and figure out what he likes. Involves damage control from the weeks that Tony spent being awful and convincing Steve that he isn’t too selfish, too spoiled, or a general waste of potential.

 **Phase 2** : Give Steve what he likes (for knowledge of things Steve likes, see Phase 1). Also get him used to unwinding in Tony’s presence. Science is key here. If Tony gives Steve things he likes, Steve will begin associating Tony with being happy and will want to spend more time with him. Thank you Pavlov!

 **Phase 3** : Get Steve to talk about his feelings (daunting - feelings are the worst - but necessary to build a solid relationship). Unfortunately, this phase will also probably involve Tony sharing his feelings. Fine, he’ll do it for Steve.

 **Phase 4** : FRIENDSHIP

\-------

Tony launched phase one the day after he and Steve shook on their friendship. Which gave him an idea, “JARVIS, make a note to consider coming up with a secret handshake for me and Steve.” Tony then got sidetracked by trying to design a handshake that would allow him to slap Steve’s ass, because that was something friends did, right? Like in sports? Tony wouldn’t know, he had never really been one for sports. “Not a team player,” everyone said.

“Yes Sir,” JARVIS replied, “Where would you like me to file said note?” JARVIS was so smart. Well, Tony had been the one to design him, so it probably shouldn’t be a surprise.

“JARVIS, please start a file dedicated to Steve - you can put the note in there. Also, I want you to analyze all Steve-related data that you’ve collected and look for trends in his interests. I want all information on his preferred activities, movies, books and music.” Tony was aces at research so phase one should be a breeze. Tony left JARVIS to his analysis and went to find Steve in order to bully him into watching TV together. Tony _might_ even be persuaded to let Steve choose what they watched, in the spirit of friendship.

“Steve, come hang out with me,” Tony demanded, leaning over the weight bench that Steve was lying on.

Steve startled and almost dropped the barbell he had been lifting. Tony tried to help him catch it and wow, that was a lot of weight. Tony looked at weights suspiciously, they seemed much heavier than even someone with Steve’s muscles should feel comfortable lifting - but was then distracted as Steve gasped, “Tony!” and yanked his earbuds out.

Pop music was suddenly audible - _If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends_ \- and Tony gleefully asked, “Steve, are you listening to the Spice Girls?”

Steve sat up, and brought the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face and whoa there, that was an excellent six pack. Tony jerked his gaze back up to Steve’s flushed face (Tony couldn’t tell if the flush was from his workout or from having his questionable music choices exposed) as he began to speak, “Um, well yes. My family was pretty old fashioned and didn’t really listen to any modern music, and then I was overseas for a few years, so there’s a lot of pop culture that I’ve missed out on. I’ve been trying to catch up on things since I’ve been back.”

This was excellent! Tony could totally help bring Steve back up to date on everything that he had missed while in the Army. There were so many possibilities - Tony’s schemes were interrupted by Steve asking, “Tony? Was there something you wanted?”

Oh right! Tony had been planning on liberating Steve from the gym. “Yes! We should hang out.” Steve looked surprised, which, fair, this was probably the first time that Tony had actively sought out Steve’s company - but Steve was going to have to get used to it, they were friends now.

“Alright,” Steve said cautiously, “did you have an activity in mind?”

Tony abruptly discarded his TV idea in favor of asking, “Not really, is there something you want to do?” It would be way better to let Steve choose their activity.

Steve smiled tentatively at Tony, which no, Steve shouldn’t be tentative about asking Tony anything, “Would you maybe want to spar? I know you’ve had self-defense training - and I saw some of it in action the night we met - but there are a few things I could probably teach you. And it would be nice for me to be able to fight something that can punch back.”

Tony laughed, “Sure thing Captain, you seem a decent fellow... I hate to kill you.” Steve just gave him a confused look, “Really Steve? The Princess Bride? No?” Steve continued to be confused and Tony sighed, “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the pop culture disconnect -” Steve started to look sad so Tony hastily continued “- but don’t worry! It’s nothing a few movie nights won’t fix. But sparring? That sounds like fun. Prepare to be amazed by my skills.”

Steve gave an amused huff, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Tony.”

One hour later found Tony laying on a mat in the gym with his eyes closed, breathing heavily, and seriously contemplating never getting up again. Tony hurt in places that he didn’t know he could hurt. Steve was the best fighter Tony had ever seen - excluding Nomad. Steve’s hand to hand combat was exceptional and Tony had only been able to actually land a punch on Steve when either Steve had allowed him to or when Tony had fought dirty, which always made Steve chuckle. Tony was not above cheating to try to win against Steve. As it was, Tony had never wished for the armor more than when he was being pinned by Steve for the umpteenth time.

“Tony, are you okay down there?” Steve asked, concern coloring his voice.

Tony thought about dying, just to spite Steve. “I’m good Cap, just taking a breather.”

“Why don’t we call it a day for now? You’re surprisingly good, with regular practice you could be extraordinary,” Steve said, sounding mildly impressed.

Tony snorted, if Steve knew exactly how Tony had gotten so good at sparring, he would probably be much more than _mildly_ impressed. “Alright, sounds good. But I think you’re going to have to carry me upstairs. It’s really the least you can do after what you’ve put me through.”

“I think you can manage on your own, Tony,” Steve said, back to being amused. Tony finally opened his eyes and sat up (ouch) to find Steve giving Tony a wide smile, “I enjoyed this, we should do it again sometime - maybe make it a regular occurrence. It wouldn’t be the worst idea for you to keep building your self-defense skills.”

Tony groaned, “Lies. You’re just enjoying finally having a valid excuse to punch me.”

“That too,” agreed Steve.

Well, at least Tony had succeeded in discovering something that Steve liked and giving it to him - even if came at the cost of almost dying. Tony supposed he would have to continue sparring with Steve for the sake of The Plan. And it probably wouldn’t hurt his work as Iron Man if he was a better fighter, so really, everyone but Tony’s body (which was voicing its displeasure quite loudly) was benefitting.

\-------

With JARVIS’s help and some sneaky investigating of his own, Tony was slowly but surely compiling a list of Steve’s likes and dislikes. And what Tony had concluded was that Steve was kind of a dork who liked things like working out excessively, reading fantasy, hot chocolate, baseball, and doing the right thing. Knowing Steve’s dislikes was pretty easy since Tony had spent most of the last month forcing Steve to do things he didn’t like. Among other things, Steve disliked reality TV, clubs (strip or otherwise), spending too much money, and people not listening to him. A few days ago, Tony would have added “Tony Stark” to the end of that list, but no longer! In fact, Tony was angling to get his name on Steve’s pretty exclusive “likes” list.

Unfortunately, even after their successful sparring session, Steve remained wary of Tony and was continually surprised when Tony wanted to hang out together. It was making Tony sad.. If Steve didn’t think that Tony was taking this whole friendship thing seriously, he was seriously mistaken.

Tony had already vowed to stop partying (it wasn’t that fun anyways), stop doing as many idiotic things in public (because he was bound to do at least a few, it was part of his charm), stop playing mean pranks on Steve, and stop lying (as much as was possible). He even renewed his vow to go to class (mostly). However, since these were all private vows, Tony supposed he couldn’t blame Steve for not immediately understanding just how sincere he was about making this friendship work. So Tony decided he needed to up his game.

Tony dropped down onto the couch next to Steve, “Why don’t you carry a gun?”

“Because I don’t like guns and because I don’t need a gun,” said Steve without even looking up from the book he was reading. Which, rude, Tony wanted Steve’s full attention.

“Wow, you seem pretty sure about that. What are going to do if someone starts shooting at me? Glare them into submission? You might just be the worst bodyguard in the entire world.” Oh crap, was it too soon in their friendship for insults?

Thankfully, Steve just gave Tony a look that somehow managed to convey amused disapproval before replying, “Well, you’re still alive aren’t you?”

Tony grudgingly conceded that Steve had a point. “Ugh, I guess. Anyways, I didn’t come down here to harass you about your bodyguard technique,” Tony said, bouncing in his seat.

“What did you come to harass me about?” Steve asked, looking back down at his book again. Yeah, anyone that thought Steve wasn’t a sarcastic little shit clearly didn’t know him very well.

“Excuse you!” Tony huffed and crossed his arms, pouting.

Steve laughed, “I’m sorry Tony, you have my rapt attention.”

“That’s more like it. Anyways, I was wondering, are you busy tomorrow afternoon?”

Steve gave him a dry look, “Tony, I’m your bodyguard, I’m literally not allowed to be busy tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s true. I do have you at my disposal,” Tony mused. Steve didn’t look impressed. “Anyways, tomorrow the Dodgers are playing a special charity game and SI bought a bunch of tickets. Wanna go?”

“Do you even like baseball, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Um, sure I do!” Tony said brightly, trying to be as convincing as possible. Tony did not like baseball. Or rather, Tony didn’t care about baseball - sports weren’t really something Tony devoted a lot of brainpower to, but he was willing to make the sacrifice for Steve. Tony narrowed his eyes, “You’re making this a lot more difficult than it needs to be. You like baseball and you like charity. It’s settled, we’re going. Or I’m going and you have to come with me because you’re my bodyguard, so there.”

Now Steve was laughing, “Alright Tony, sounds like fun.”

\------

Tony had a surprisingly good time at the game considering how much he didn’t know and didn’t care about baseball. It was immediately apparent that Steve loved not only baseball, but the Dodgers specifically. When they walked into the stadium, his entire face lit up. Steve explained that he was from Brooklyn and that his family had been big Dodgers fans back when they were the Brooklyn Dodgers, so it was basically tradition at this point for him to be a fan.

Steve looked at Tony disapprovingly when Tony led them to their seats (they were behind home plate). Tony was quick to defend himself, “All proceeds are going to charity! You could say buying expensive seats was the responsible thing to do!” They settled into their seats and Tony bought snacks. The game passed quickly, even though Tony spent most of his time watching Steve instead of watching the game. Steve’s commentary was informative and amusing and Tony was at his most witty and charming, so naturally, the conversation was sparking. Steve seemed to be perpetually smiling. Tony congratulated himself for an excellent execution of phases one and two of The Plan.

The best part of the whole thing was that it seemed to help Steve get over whatever doubts he had about Tony’s offer of friendship. Which was good because Tony really couldn’t stand it if Steve secretly thought that Tony had ulterior motives or wasn’t 100% invested in their new relationship. After the game, Steve started to actually seek out _Tony_ , which was awesome. And now, whenever Tony left his lab to go find Steve and force him to watch TV, spar, or just hang out, he was always met with a smile.

\-------

Steve kicked Tony’s feet out from underneath him and Tony landed heavily on the mat, with an “Oof.” After a moment he sat back up to glare at a grinning, sweaty Steve.

“That’s the fifth bout in a row that I’ve won, isn’t it?” Steve asked, gloating what Tony thought was an unnecessary amount.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re doing something that I can win next,” snapped Tony, getting to his feet. “Meet me in the study in half an hour and be mentally prepared to lose.”

Steve continued to look smug, “I don’t know Tony, I’m pretty sure I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Tony huffed and then gave Steve his own wicked grin, “Alright soldier, why don’t we bet on it? Think about what you want if you win and meet me in 30.” Tony flounced off to take his shower and plot out what exactly he was going to make Steve do when he won their bet.

A little over half an hour later found Tony and Steve squaring off over a chess board. Tony stared Steve down, arms crossed.

“Chess?” asked Steve, arching an eyebrow at Tony. “I didn’t think this was the kind of game you kids played anymore.”

“You’re only six years older than me!” Tony said, highly affronted. Tony did not appreciate the insinuation that he wasn’t classy enough to play chess. Tony had been playing regularly with Isaac for years, ever since Isaac had taught him how to play on this tenth birthday. Tony was going to crush Steve, maybe he would cry. Tony was self-aware enough to know that he would probably enjoy that. “And don’t worry, the next game we play can definitely be more of the video variety, but for today, chess!” Tony gave Steve a challenging look, “You do know how to play, right?”

Steve gave Tony a level look, “Sure, I learned in the Army.”

“Fantastic! And do you still want to put stakes on the game? We don’t have to, if you’re too worried I might win,” Tony said, schooling his face into an expression of mock concern.

Steve’s eyes lit up, his entire face full of fiery determination. “I’m not backing out of anything and I think I stand a pretty good chance of winning. What are the terms?” That was the moment Tony realized Steve was hilariously competitive. In retrospect, Tony really should have seen it coming. Steve was just as stubborn as he was so it made sense that Steve would hate to lose just as much as Tony did. It was _so_ on.

“If I win, you have to cook me whatever I want for an entire week,” Tony said, laughing at the distressed look that flitted over Steve’s face. Steve was a fantastic cook, but he tended to make depressingly healthy meals. There was only so much salad that Tony was willing to eat in the name of his friendship with Steve. Tony was going to win his way to gastronomic bliss.

“Fine, if I win…” Steve trailed off, pausing to think before a positively devious smile spread over his face, “If I win, then you give up coffee for one week.”

Tony gasped and Steve looked smug. That was cruel, even for Steve.

Seeing Tony’s wounded expression, Steve sweetly asked, “Obviously, we don’t have to. I’m willing to forget the bet, if you’re worried about your ability to forgo coffee.”

“Not likely, Captain. You better check yourself,” retorted Tony.

What followed was the most aggressive chess game that Tony had ever played, filled with much good natured bickering between the two opponents. Tony had spent years honing his chess skills and had been expecting to beat Steve handily. But despite his relative inexperience, Steve clearly had a brilliant mind for strategy and actually presented Tony with a lovely challenge. Tony had never really liked winning easily anyways, it was so much sweeter to win after you fought for it.

Finally, after over an hour and a half of play, Tony yelled, “Check mate!” jumping up from his chair and performing his own mini celebration.

Steve stood up as well, laughing and extended his hand for Tony to shake, “Good game Tony.” And then giving him a calculating look asked, “How long have you been playing?”

Tony paused his celebration to look at Steve innocently, “Oh you know, only off and on since I was ten…”

Steve laughed again, “Of course Tony, I can see that you’re an extremely casual chess player. And your expertise with chess wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Isaac is a world-class chess player, now would it?”

Tony thought he should feel guilty but, “Whatever Daniels, I won fair and square. You owe me dinner - and breakfast and lunch - for the next week. Come on, I think I’m feeling like risotto tonight.”

“Alright Tony, I’ll make you your risotto on the condition that we have a rematch tomorrow,” Steve replied. And thus, game night was born. Steve continued to give Tony a run for his money in chess, occasionally even beating Tony - usually when Tony got distracted by things like the muscles in Steve’s arms flexing when he reached for a chess pieces. Tony also convinced Steve to play video games with him and Steve was hilariously awful at them. He would wear a pretty much perpetual pout whenever Tony forced him to play. Tony, of course, loved playing video games because he was almost always guaranteed to win.

Then Steve brought out the board games. Tony hadn’t even known he owned board games. Steve turned out to be a ruthless Monopoly player. Tony would have suspected that Steve was cheating, but he was pretty sure that Captain Choirboy was incapable of winning less than honorably. Next came the cards. Tony was just hoping that he could eventually convince Steve to give strip poker a try.

Probably the best part of game nights were the increasingly ridiculous bets that Steve and Tony made with each other. Steve’s win at Monopoly ensured that Tony had to call Steve “Steve” instead of “Daniels,” “Cap,” “Captain,” “Soldier,” or any other nickname for 48 hours straight, which had been surprisingly difficult. Tony’s Mario Kart dominance won him the prize of breakfast in bed for an entire weekend, hand delivered by Steve. Steve’s gin rummy win forced Tony to follow a Steve-approved workout regime for an entire week. That one had almost killed Tony. Most of Steve’s bets seemed to center around trying to make Tony a better person while Tony’s bets centered around making Steve do things for him (like feed him). Tony thought he usually ended up with the better part of the deal.

And then Tony made the fatal mistake of taking Steve to play laser tag. Within five minutes of the first game, Steve had recruited and organized a surprisingly vicious army of preteens to hunt down and kill Tony. Tony was obviously not going to concede defeat that easily, so in the next game, Tony assembled his own fighting force and started to destroy Steve’s army from within. It was amazing what a couple of 20 dollar bills could convince 12 year olds to do (like spy on their own forces and then defect to Tony’s, bringing valuable intel with them). Unfortunately, children were terrible and could not be trusted. A lesson Tony learned after a rousing and inspiring speech from Captain Steve caused the defectors to rejoin Steve (taking Tony’s bribe money with them, the little bastards). Tony accepted his crushing defeat with grace and resigned himself to allowing Steve to control the TV for the next three days.

\------

In a shocking display of domesticity (and because he had lost at checkers to Steve earlier that day), Tony was tidying up the living room when he came across a crumpled piece of paper. It was covered in Steve’s writing and appeared to be a list of some sort. At the top was written “To Look Up” and listed below were things like: _Steve Jobs (Apple), Thai Food, Star Wars/Trek, Nirvana (Band), Rocky (Rocky II?)._ “Oh. My. God.” Tony mouthed to himself and immediately took off running to find Steve.

Tony located Steve in the pool outside swimming laps, body slicing gracefully through the water. Tony dropped down to sit on the ledge of the pool so that Steve would see his feet at the end of his lap. Oh, the heated water of the pool felt nice on an overcast December day. Tony wiggled his toes and mourned the fact that he couldn’t swim anymore - he couldn’t exactly hide the arc reactor if he was in swimming trunks.

“Tony?” Steve stopped swimming and took off his goggles, standing in the pool directly in front of Tony.

Tony watched distractedly as water ran in rivulets down Steve’s chest, outlining muscles - why wasn’t he already out here watching Steve swim? That was the real question. A view like this deserved to be appreciated.

“Tony? Is everything alright?” Steve asked, waving his hand in front of Tony’s face to get his attention.

Tony focused his gaze on Steve’s face. Oh right! The list, making fun of Steve - that was why he was out here. “Steve, what is this?” Tony asked gleefully, brandishing the piece of paper.

Steve took the paper and reading it, blushed and avoided meeting Tony’s gaze, “Um -”

Tony cut him off, “Because there’s being bad at pop culture and then there’s never having seen Star Wars. I mean really Steve, that’s bad even for you.” Tony suddenly remembered his vague plans to remedy Steve’s pop culture deficit. It looked like it was definitely time to put those into action.

Steve continued to blush quite prettily, “I was just trying to be organized about what I need to catch up on,” he muttered, still avoiding Tony’s gaze.

Tony felt himself melt. He kind of wanted coo and pinch Steve’s cheek. “Aw Steve, it’s okay - you’re friends with Isaac, so I already knew that on the inside, you’re not-so-secretly a 90-year-old man.”

Steve looked at Tony with wide, shocked eyes before shaking his head, snorting and slapping his hand in the pool in front of Tony, sending a spray of water to soak Tony’s perfectly dry clothes and distracting him from his teasing.

Tony squawked, splashing back, “Oh my god, fine! I take it back, you’re not 90 you’re actually six.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Stark,” Steve snarked back, grinning. Things sort of devolved from there and ended when Steve succeeded in dragging a fully-clothed Tony into the pool.

Tony emerged from underneath the water, spluttering and sent a final splash in the direction of Steve’s smug face, “Fine, fine - you win! I promise to never tease you about your pop culture deficit again… for today at least.”

But as adorable as Steve’s pop culture ignorance was, Tony knew he couldn’t let this sad state of affairs continue. Tony was already making plans. When Steve woke up tomorrow, he would find his Stark Pad loaded with music, TV shows, and movies all organized by decade and genre. And of course, Tony would be willing to sacrifice as much of his time and energy as necessary in order to make sure Steve was adequately educated, which would obviously involve spending lots of time with Steve. Tony congratulated himself on being so selfless.

\-------

Tony unknowingly embarked on the dreaded phase three (feelings) the day he invited Steve into his lab. Operation BFF had been proceeding remarkably well. Tony now spent pretty much all of his free time - time when he wasn’t in his lab or in classes - with Steve. Steve frequently and _voluntarily_ sought out Tony’s company, and when they were together, Steve always seemed relaxed and happy - a huge change from his tense gloominess of weeks previous. And Tony thought that he had never seen Steve smile more than he had been doing recently. So Tony was pretty sure he was rocking phases one and two of The Plan.

Tony was heading upstairs, head bent over his Stark Pad and muttering to JARVIS, when he quite literally ran into Steve. _Ugh, it’s like running into a wall,_ thought Tony as he wobbled backwards.

“Whoa there,” said Steve, reaching out to steady Tony, his hand a warm brand where it rested on Tony’s hip.

Tony grinned up at Steve, “Steve! I did not see you there. Maybe I should get you a bell...”

Steve smiled back, “I’m not a cat, Tony.” Steve was still holding Tony steady, it was nice. Tony would bet at least half his inheritance that Steve gave great hugs. “Where are you headed? I was thinking that maybe we could go watch something together?” Steve continued.

“Oh, uh, I was actually going up to my lab, I have some things I really need to work on.” At Tony’s words, Steve’s smile fell away. Oh no. That wasn’t good, Steve wasn’t supposed to be sad anymore. Tony needed to turn that frown upside down, ASAP! “But you should come with me! It will probably be pretty boring for you since I mostly just talk to myself or JARVIS and try not to accidentally blow anything up, but you could bring your sketchbook or your Stark Pad. There’s a couch -”

Steve cut off Tony’s rambling (thank god) with a look of such earnest hope, “Are you sure I wouldn’t be in the way?” And really, Tony was pretty powerless to do anything but give Steve exactly what he wanted.

“Yeah, of course not. Come on,” Tony said, gesturing in front of him.

Steve gave Tony a radiant smile, “I’ll be up in a minute, just let me go get my sketchbook,” before disappearing into his bedroom.

Tony stood smiling at Steve’s retreating back like an idiot before he got ahold of himself and shaking his head, hurried up to the lab. “JARVIS, initiate the ‘Iron Lockdown’ protocol,” Tony called out. Tony had designed the protocol as soon as he had made the decision to stop fighting Steve’s presence. The protocol hid and placed the armor under additional security while temporarily removing and heavily encrypting all evidence of Iron Man (schematics, video footage, etc.) on Tony’s lab computers. “And let Steve in when he gets here, J,” Tony added.

Tony was already absorbed in troubleshooting a prototype for one of his advanced prosthetics when the door to the lab swung open to reveal Steve, who looked around the lab with wide eyes. “Tony, I didn’t get a chance to tell you last time, but your lab is incredible.”

Tony smiled happily. His lab really was the best. “Thanks Cap. I designed and set up the whole thing myself, so that’s probably why it’s so awesome.” Modesty was for suckers.

Steve shot Tony an amused look, “I’m sure.”

Steve settled down with his sketchbook on the couch in the back of the lab and Tony quickly forgot he was even there, completely engrossed in the projects he was working on. After what seemed like no time at all (but was actually a few hours) Tony was pulled out of his engineering haze by Steve’s voice asking, “What are you working on?”

“Huh?” Tony replied, as articulate as ever. He looked around, blinking. Oh! Steve was here.

Steve smiled and ducked his head, “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to know what you were working on. There’s been a noticeable increase in muttering and under-the-breath cursing in the past 15 minutes.”

“Oh, sorry about that. I’m working on arc reactor tech-” seeing Steve’s confused look, Tony quickly explained, “-its clean energy technology. It’s a proposal that I recently submitted to SI, but Howard said that my proposed model was too large and consequently too cost and labor intensive to build. So I’m trying to decrease the size without decreasing the amount of power it can supply… and it’s not going so great.” Tony had finally sent Howard schematics for a working arc reactor - theoretically big enough to power a large city - only to be brushed off with bullshit excuses again, of course. Tony sighed. One of these days, he was finally going to get it right and submit a flawless and completely unobjectionable proposal to SI. Well, he would get it right or die trying.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Tony,” said Steve, looking appropriately impressed. At least someone appreciated Tony’s inventions.

“Well, it’ll be amazing if I can make it work. Wait. Never mind, feel free to continue to heap all the praise you want on me,” Tony replied. Tony always liked hearing how great he was and it was even better coming from Steve, who couldn’t lie to save his life.

Steve snorted before shooting Tony a bored expression and replying in a monotone, “Tony Stark is everything that is great in this world.”

“You would think that I would find that less satisfying because it was so obviously insincere, but I really don’t. In fact, I think I’m going to have JARVIS set the recording of you saying that as my new text message tone,” Tony snarked back. Sass like Steve’s couldn’t just go unanswered.

Steve laughed, “Whatever you need to make yourself feel better, Tony.” Steve’s expression then became much more serious, “Tony, I wanted to ask you-” Steve looked at Tony apprehensively.

Tony, who didn’t think he could ever remember Steve being less than forthright about something, quickly jumped in, “Yeah? You can ask me whatever you want, Steve.”

Steve nodded quickly, “I wanted to ask about your inventions. Mostly, why Stark Industries isn’t working on developing them. I mean, I don’t know much about engineering but from what I saw of your schematics, it seems like you’re inventing things that could really change the world - that would make it better.”

Tony might have to revise his statement of letting Steve ask whatever he wanted, because his question was like a punch to the chest. Tony sucked in a breath. He couldn’t blame Steve, there was no way for Steve to know that he had hit an extremely sore spot for Tony. “Honestly, I don’t know exactly why SI isn’t interested, but I have my suspicions. I think there’s a good chance that Howard thinks that if he rejects enough of my ideas, I’ll eventually get frustrated enough to go back to weapons R&D.”

Steve looked troubled, “But why- Tony, he’s your father! He shouldn’t be trying to manipulate you, especially into doing something you can’t stand.”

Tony gave Steve a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head, “Clearly you’ve never met Howard. Manipulation is pretty much his modus operandi for any situation.”

Steve gave Tony a mutinous look, clearly outraged on Tony’s behalf (which was sweet). “Well it’s not right. And if SI won’t develop your inventions, you should do it on your own - or maybe with Isaac.”

Tony laughed incredulously, “Like what, start my own company?”

Steve, however, was not laughing. He looked at Tony seriously, nodding, “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. A company that has nothing to do with weapons and where you have complete control over what projects are pursued.”

And - well, Tony had heard way worse ideas. It was actually a pretty ingenious solution to part of his problem. But unfortunately, it wouldn’t do anything to stop SI from producing weapons, which was Tony’s ultimate goal. Tony took in Steve’s very serious expression and couldn’t help giggling a little, “Hmmm, what would I name my very own company? ‘The Better Stark Industries’ maybe?”

Steve finally cracked a small smile of his own, “How about Stark Solutions? Because that’s what you’re really doing, isn’t it? Green energy, better medical technology - all your inventions are all about finding solutions.”

Tony squirmed, feeling pleased all over from Steve’s words. He never thought he would see the day where Steve looked at him with genuine respect, but here it was. Tony grinned at Steve, “You know, ‘Stark Solutions’ actually sounds pretty good. If it comes to having to create my own company, I’m definitely calling it that and bringing you in to sit on the Board of Directors. Or maybe I’ll make you head of marketing. Think of the possibilities Steve!”

Steve was still only smiling slightly, despite Tony’s best attempts to lighten the mood. “I’m serious Tony, you deserve better. Your ideas deserve better than the treatment they’re getting at SI.”

Tony’s smile and bravado slipped away and abruptly, all he wanted was more of this - more of Steve comforting him and telling him that no matter what Howard said or did, Tony was still worth something. Tony hadn’t known just how much he wanted (needed) to hear Steve tell him he was doing the right thing until Steve had actually said it. “Thank you,” Tony said quietly, “It’s been hard-” his sentence trailed off as swallowed heavily.

Steve stood up, and before Tony could quite figure out what was happening, he was being pulled into a hug. And Tony had been so right, Steve gave _fantastic_ hugs. Tony practically melted in Steve’s arms. It was almost enough to make him forget that he might never get SI to stop producing weapons. After a few minutes, Steve eventually pulled back and spoke with a quiet confidence, “Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay. I know that you’ll figure out the right thing to do.”

Tony looked away, shivering slightly, “I can’t go back to making weapons. I won’t do it - I just, God. I can’t even imagine the nightmares I’ll have if I go back to doing that.” The words left Tony’s mouth without thought or permission and he was promptly horrified. Steve really didn’t need to know how screwed up Tony was about this (and everything that had happened during his kidnapping). This was not the fun and games that had been promised when Tony offered his friendship.

Tony quickly looked back at Steve, but Steve didn’t look like he was appalled at Tony getting his emotions all over the place. Instead, Steve reached out to squeeze Tony’s arm, “Hey, it’s alright. I have nightmares too, sometimes.”

Tony gave Steve a small smile and punched him lightly on the arm. “I think I’ve had enough of lab work for today, let’s go spar. I can take out my frustrations with SI by trying to punch you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head, “Yeah, okay Tony. But if you ever want to talk more about it, we can.”

Tony shrugged, “I already feel better.” And the weird thing was, he did. Just knowing Steve was here and willing to listen if Tony ever needed to talk made him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Tony smirked and continued, “And I’ll feel a lot better when I win a few of our bouts.” Then Tony paused before giving Steve a thoughtful look, “And you know, you can talk to me too... if want to, if you need to.” Steve needed to know that Tony would be there for him too.

Steve nodded and flushed, giving Tony a soft, sweet smile, “Thanks Tony.”

“Alright! Enough feelings, let’s go try to beat the shit of each other.”

Tony smiled at Steve’s scandalized expression and sure enough, “Tony! That’s not what we’re trying to do,” Steve said indignantly. Tony laughed as Steve followed him downstairs to the gym, earnestly talking about how much more important the “skill” and “tactics” in their sparring session were than just brute strength.

Tony mostly tuned Steve out, mulling over the Captain’s earlier statement of “I have nightmares too.” Tony supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Tony knew that Steve had lost at least one person important to him in the war and Steve’s heavily blacked-out folder of Special Ops missions spoke for itself - Steve had obviously witnessed and been through his fair share of trauma while in the Army. Tony just hoped that Steve’s nightmares were getting better. After all, Tony’s were.

Tony’s nightmares had substantially decreased since his and Steve’s cessation of hostilities. As much as Tony had resisted the idea of a bodyguard - of Steve - he couldn’t deny that having Steve around actually helped. Tony was Iron Man, he knew he could take care of himself and hold his own in a fight, but it didn’t change the fact that Steve made him feel… safe. Tony mostly just tried not to think too hard about what that meant.

After that day, Steve was a frequent visitor in Tony’s lab. If Tony was working in his lab (and as long as he wasn’t doing something Iron Man related), then more often than not, Steve could be found sitting on the lab’s lone couch, reading or sketching and entertaining Tony whenever he took breaks. And as much as Tony usually hated having people in his space when he was engineering, he never minded Steve being there. It seemed that Steve was fast becoming the exception to pretty much every one of Tony’s usual rules.

\-------

Tony was sitting in his lab, spinning around in a chair as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Pepper! How did we become friends?”

“Hi Tony. It’s nice to hear from you. How am I? I’m good. Thank you for asking,” answered Pepper, her voice tinged with amusement. Tony was pretty sure he was nailing this whole “friendship” thing with Steve, but just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything important, he had decided to call in the experts on being friends with Tony Stark: Pepper and Rhodey.

“Stay focused Pepper! We’ll do pleasantries and catching up later, but right now, I have a serious problem that I need your help with. And you can help by telling me exactly how we became friends.” Tony whipped out a pen and paper, ready to take detailed notes on the friendship process.

“Why do you need to know how we became friends?” Pepper asked.

Tony sighed. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get answers anytime soon. “Pepper,” Tony whined. Pepper stayed silent. “Fine,” huffed Tony, “I need you to tell me how we became friends because - you know my bodyguard Steve? Well, I’m trying to make him like me, so I thought I would consult the two people that like me the best, you and Rhodey. _Now_ will you help me?”

Pepper laughed, “Aw Tony, I think it’s cute that you’re trying to make friends.” God Pepper was the worst, it was a good thing he was working on getting new, better friends.

“Are you actually going to help me or are you just going to make fun of me?” Tony asked in a tone of voice that definitely wasn’t petulant.

“Why can’t I do both?” Pepper asked. Well, this conversation was at least going better than his call with Rhodey, who at this point in the conversation had just laughed at Tony for about a minute straight. Tony had hung up on him. Rhodey had called back just to continue laughing at him. Rhodey was also the worst.

Tony huffed and stayed silent, waiting (very patiently, he thought) for Pepper to continue.

Pepper chuckled, “Alright, alright. How did we become friends? Well, you came to a party at my house, got drunk and almost threw up on me. I took you upstairs, made you drink a glass of water and sleep it off. The next morning, you tried to hire me to be your personal assistant. I regretfully declined, seeing as how I really wanted to finish my degree. You eventually convinced me to get coffee with you. I’m pretty sure you tried to hit on me over coffee and then every other time we hung out over the next few weeks. I somehow managed to resist the charms of 16-year-old you and we ended up as friends instead.”

Tony hummed and wrote down: “alcohol” and “persistence” on his notepad and then circled and underlined “alcohol.” “That was actually pretty helpful, thanks Pep! I talked to Rhodey and after he was done laughing at me, he said that our friendship began after I accidentally climbed into his bed drunk on the third night of us being roommates. So what I’m getting is that the common denominator in my friendships seems to be alcohol.”

“What? Tony, no that is not the correct conclusion to draw at all!” Pepper said, sounding pretty alarmed. Which as a little offensive, Tony was a genius and a scientist, he knew how to draw conclusions.

“Okay! Thanks again Pepper! Sorry, I have to run. We’ll talk soon!”

“Tony! Wait-” Tony hung up, cutting Pepper’s sentence off. Whoops. It was fine, Tony would send her a gift basket or maybe buy her those shoes she really wanted. Rhodey, however, was not going to be getting anything. Tony tapped his pen against the pad, “alcohol.” Okay, Tony could totally make this work.

Later that night, Tony presented the new and improved chess board to Steve, “Ta-da!”

Steve looked down at the board and then back up at Tony, raising both eyebrows, “Tony, did you replace the chess pieces with... is that liquor?”

Tony beamed, “I did! The pieces are now shot glasses. You see, now when you lose a piece to your opponent, you have to take a shot.” Tony had the best ideas.

Steve shot Tony a bemused look, “Tony, I’m not sure that this is a good idea. I have a pretty high alcohol tolerance, so whatever you’re hoping is going to happen, probably won’t.”

“Come Steve, live a little and take some shots! It’ll be fun, I promise,” Tony wheedled.

Steve sighed in an extremely put upon manner (which, excuse him, like getting drunk with Tony was _such_ a burden) and nodded, “Okay Tony, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

An hour later, Tony was well on his way to being properly smashed. And Steve, in spite of having done about the same amount of shots as Tony (each one with an adorable little grimace), was still disturbingly sober. This was not going according to plan. God, could Steve even get drunk? His tolerance was unreal. As Tony took his next shot, he glared at Steve, “I think you tricked me. I’m not sure how yet, but I’m pretty sure something weird is going on. Are you sure you’re actually taking the shots?” Tony asked accusingly, words slurring a bit.

Steve laughed, “I told you I have a high tolerance. I can’t be tricking you if I warned you before we started playing.”

Tony glared some more, “Ugh, and now you’re saying ‘I told you so.’ I hate it when you’re right. I’m supposed to be right, not you.” Steve just laughed more, the bastard. “I can’t believe you’re enjoying my suffering,” Tony continued grumpily.

Steve got to his feet, shaking his head and smiling, “Alright Tony, I think that’s enough for tonight, let’s get you to bed.”

“Yes, let’s go to bed, that’s a fantastic plan,” Tony said, perking up. Okay, Tony was willing to concede that maybe Steve had some good ideas. Tony tried to stand up, but the entire room wobbled, so he promptly sat back down. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just hang out here for a bit.”

“Nope,” said Steve, “Come on,” and he hauled Tony up and out of his seat.

“Whoa,” said Tony, “Being upright is hard.”

“I know it is,” responded Steve, sounding remarkably unsympathetic to Tony’s plight. In revenge, Tony gave up all pretenses of holding some of his own weight and essentially went limp in Steve’s arms, forcing him to scramble to catch Tony before he collapsed.

“Carry me,” demanded Tony. Steve deserved it for being so remarkably sober and pretty.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Fine,” he said and without giving Tony any warning, picked him up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. An extremely drunk sack of potatoes, that was.

Everything spun. A lot. “You are so lucky that I didn’t throw up just now,” Tony told Steve’s extremely nice ass, as he hung upside down. One extremely harrowing climb up the stairs later, Tony was deposited on his beautiful, fluffy bed and Steve disappeared only to reappear with a glass of water and painkillers.

“Here, drink this and put these on your bedside table to take tomorrow morning,” Steve said, clearly trying to look stern but really only managing to look fond and slightly exasperated.

“Thanks Steve. You’re a good friend, even if you didn’t have the good grace to join me in getting drunk,” Tony remarked, feeling much more charitable now that he was horizontal.

“You’re a good friend too, Tony,” said Steve.

“Really?” said Tony excitedly. Score! Tony hoped he remembered this conversation tomorrow morning because he was pretty sure that he had just achieved phase four of Operation BFF.

“Yes, really,” replied Steve, before giving Tony a shy smile and continuing, “You’re probably my best friend.”

Screw Pepper and Rhodey, Tony’s plan had _totally_ worked.

\-------

Sometime in the middle of everything else, Christmas happened. Tony was in general not a fan of holidays. Howard hadn’t really believed in family celebrations when Tony was growing up, usually too busy working. Tony had either spent his holidays alone, with friends or Isaac, when he too wasn’t working or traveling; Howard’s absence always glaringly obvious. So Christmas really wasn’t Tony’s thing, it had usually just been a reminder of just how broken his family was. Tony didn’t do Christmas spirit, so naturally, Steve loved Christmas. “Holidays are important, Tony,” Steve said. Tony agreed to disagree.

Tony instituted a firm “no decorations” rule in the house, which Steve promptly broke, multiple times. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Tony found tinsel, candy canes and scented pinecones (really Steve?) scattered throughout the house - all apparently smuggled in by Steve, the secret Christmas Elf. Tony was going to start having to strip searching him for Christmas contraband before letting Steve in the house. _Which would actually be a fantastic Christmas present to myself_ , Tony thought gleefully.

So even though Tony somehow found himself with a house partially decorated for Christmas, Tony was holding firm on the Christmas tree, mainly that there wasn’t going to be one. And if there was, it would be over Tony’s dead and lifeless body - sorry Steve! But then Steve sulked for days, and unfortunately, Tony was not immune to Steve’s puppy dog eyes. So he had conceded, “Fine, we can get a tree on one condition - I get to pick the tree and you can’t argue with my decision.” Steve’s ensuing smile had been so wide Tony _almost_ felt guilty for what he was about to do.

Steve had been considerably less happy when Tony brought home a fake, entirely pink Christmas tree. Steve had looked at the tree - pink lights cheerily flashing - and looked back at Tony with a sort of stunned horror. “That might be the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve had said, sounding reluctantly impressed.

“I know,” Tony had said appreciatively. He was really quite proud of the tree; it was probably the worst Christmas tree in the whole world.

Then Steve had snickered, eyes crinkling with mirth, “I actually think it’s the perfect tree for you Tony, I can see why you chose it.”

“You are such an asshole!” Tony had exclaimed gleefully. Tony had then proceeded to try to pelt Steve to death with the ornaments he had bought (all of them bright gold and silver, of course - this was going to be the tackiest Christmas tree in existence). Steve, in a stunning but unsurprising display of athleticism, had caught every single ornament Tony had flung at him, laughing all the while.

Tony and Steve were invited to Christmas Day at Isaac’s. Hopefully, this dinner was going to be substantially less awkward than the last one. Isaac opened the door and promptly burst out laughing. Steve was wearing a truly ugly Christmas sweater (that he somehow still managed to make look good) and an elf hat. Tony was wearing a mutinous expression and reindeer horns. Tony shoved eggnog and rum at Isaac, who was still laughing, “Don’t even start - we both lost bets.”

Steve, eyes bright, gave his tin of homemade Christmas cookies to Isaac, saying “Merry Christmas, Isaac!” Tony thought better of it and reclaimed the rum from Isaac.

Isaac watched with a smirk and fond eyes as Tony and Steve bantered and bickered their way through Christmas dinner. Tony was too engrossed in their very important discussion to care too much about how smug Isaac looked.

“Tony, Die Hard isn’t a real Christmas movie. Nobody learns a life lesson because of Christmas and it has way too much blood for it to be an acceptable holiday movie,” Steve said firmly.

“It totally is a Christmas movie! By the end, John McLane learns the importance of family. And really, what’s more Christmassy than killing terrorists? And red is a Christmas color,” Tony argued. Steve used Tony’s distraction with his argument to steal a piece of turkey off of Tony’s plate, the heathen. Tony jabbed Steve’s hand with his fork, “Stop taking my food and go get thirds Steve. Yes, I’m judging, but that shouldn’t stop you.”

Tony gave Steve paints, brushes and canvases (just in case he felt like upgrading his art from just sketches). Steve shot Tony a small, delighted smile when he opened his presents. “Thank you, Tony,” he said softly. Tony squirmed uncomfortably and thought that maybe he shouldn’t have hidden Steve’s second present. He would probably have preferred bickering to sincere, _emotional,_ “thank you’s.”

Unbeknownst to Steve, Tony had also hidden Dodgers season tickets in one of the boxes of paints, figuring that Steve would find them eventually. Tony knew that giving them to Steve on Christmas, in addition to what he had already gotten him, would have caused Steve to frown disapprovingly at Tony about “spending too much money” or some other nonsense. So Tony had thought that hiding them would delay that fight for a day that wasn’t Christmas, but now he was kicking himself for his thoughtfulness.

Thankfully, Steve didn’t wait long before presenting Tony with his gifts, blushing slightly. Tony focused on his gifts instead of Steve, tearing open the wrapping paper with childish joy (if there was one thing he liked about Christmas, it was presents), revealing a set of coffee mugs with Princess Bride quotes ( _My name is Inigo Montoya, you drank my coffee, prepare to die_ ) and one of Steve’s drawings. The drawing was of a young Tony (he was maybe 7 or 8?) and Isaac, heads bent over an engineering project as Isaac guided kid Tony’s hand to the correct tool. It had clearly been lovingly recreated from old photos. Tony looked down at the drawing, which captured one of the few truly happy memories he had of his childhood, and swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly to get rid of the prickling behind his eyes. Tony was not going to cry, he _was not._

Tony gave Steve a wobbly smile (ugh, emotions), running his fingers over the drawing, “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

Steve blushed some more and avoided meeting Tony’s gaze, “You're welcome.”

Tony took a moment to give thanks that Steve was just as bad at feelings as Tony was and broke the awkwardness by turning to tease Mrs. Trilby and Isaac, who were standing suspiciously close to some mistletoe. All in all, Tony had definitely had way worse holidays - like the one where he went to sleep in Massachusetts but woke up the next day naked and in Mexico (ah, Thanksgiving 2013). And as Tony looked at Steve and Isaac, both sitting by the completely unnecessary fire and laughing, he felt a warm glow suffusing him in and out. And before he could silence it (he blamed the rum), a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, _I could get used to things being like this all the time._

\-------

Obviously, things weren’t perfect. Tony and Steve were still Tony and Steve, also known as the two stubbornest people in California, so naturally they occasionally still clashed. The first time they had started arguing after establishing their tentative truce (Tony didn’t even remember what they had fought about, maybe something to do with Tony not eating?), Tony had thought bleakly, _this is it, this friendship is going to end before it ever really got a chance to begin._ Obviously, Tony had been wrong because within an hour of both of them sulking in different corners of the house, Tony had gotten bored and lured Steve out of hiding with popcorn and The Lord of the Rings movies, effectively reconciling them. But that fight definitely hadn’t been their last. Tony and Steve just couldn’t help yelling at each other every once and awhile.

Steve still occasionally got pissy about Tony’s “unhealthy” habits (sleep and healthy food were for the weak, Tony maintained) and one wrong move on Tony’s part regarding his own safety was guaranteed to earn a glare from Steve. And most times Tony would laugh it off and everything was fine, but sometimes Tony would automatically reply with a thoughtless comment about how Steve was still a stick-in-the-mud or insufferable know-it-all and whoops, there was their argument. So yeah, they still fought. It was rare, but it happened.

What had changed was that their arguments were no longer designed to hurt or to break. Instead, their disagreements weirdly seemed to stem from a sort of misguided intent to make each other better? Tony was still kind of confused about it all, but it seemed like when they fought, it was just another way he and Steve were trying to look out for each other. And since Tony and Steve were both a little (a lot) emotionally crippled, caring for each other occasionally manifested as fighting. Whatever, Tony wasn’t dwelling on it. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be working okay for them.

And as relatively well as things were going with Steve, Tony was not making any progress with Stark Industries. Every single one of his project proposals had been rejected by Howard. Every. Single. One. Tony seriously couldn’t wait until Stark Industries was his. If Tony were more inclined to supervillainism instead of superheroism, he would probably seriously be contemplating hostile takeover scenarios right now. What was stopping him was mostly imagining Isaac’s and Steve’s disapproval.

But Tony had to do something, so he made another appointment with Howard, hoping that a face-to-face conversation might make a difference. At least if they spoke in person, Howard would have to give Tony a better justification than “not interested” for refusing his proposals.

Tony showed up at SI headquarters early and dressed in a suit, per Steve’s suggestion. Tony personally didn’t think that Howard deserved the respect, but it couldn’t hurt right? Plus, Tony looked awesome in a suit. After cooling his heels in the reception area outside of Howard’s office for almost 20 minutes (Steve at his side like the good bodyguard he was), Howard’s beautiful but bitchy secretary (Tony didn’t bother to remember names, Howard got a new one like clockwork every few months) eventually saw fit to inform him that “Mr. Stark actually isn’t in the building at the moment” and that his meeting had been rescheduled with “Mr. Stane.” Tony spared a moment to wish fervently that he had his armor just so he could blow something up. Just something small, for the stress relief!

“Fine,” Tony said, through gritted teeth. “I’ll just show myself to Mr. Stane’s office, I guess.” Steve gave him an encouraging look. God, Howard didn’t even have the balls to deal with Tony himself. Or, more likely, Tony just ranked so low on his list of priorities that he genuinely didn’t care about missing their scheduled meeting. Well, at least Tony would get to see Obie. Obadiah Stane was Howard Stark’s close friend and business partner, second-in-command at Stark Industries and in Tony’s opinion, a better person than Howard on most days.

“Tony, my boy!” exclaimed Obie, rising to pull Tony into a hug. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since the hospital, but I hear that you’re back in fine form.”

“Yeah, I’m doing alright, thanks for asking,” Tony said, sitting down in the chair in front of Obie’s desk.

“Now, what can I do for you?” Obie asked.

“Well, I wanted to talk to Howard about the new research proposals I’ve submitted? I’m not doing weapons R&D anymore, as you know,” Tony replied.

“I had heard that. Any chance I can convince you to reconsider? You designed some fantastic things for us…” Obie trailed off, looking at Tony hopefully.

“Um no, I’m not going to reconsider,” Tony said, as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He really wished he didn’t have to disappoint Obie. Disappointing Howard was practically routine by now, but Obie had always praised and encouraged Tony’s contributions to the company.

Obie sighed, “Well, it was worth a shot! So tell me about these new research proposals of yours, Howard hasn’t shared any of them with me.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, “What? Howard said that he had discussed all of them with the Board - which would include you. You haven’t seen them?” God, Howard was such a lying bastard.

“No Tony, I haven’t seen them. I’m so sorry. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you send me all the proposals you’ve sent to Howard and I’ll look them over personally. And then I’ll be sure to discuss them with Howard and the rest of the Board,” offered Obie, looking sympathetic.

Tony blew out a frustrated breath, “Yeah, thanks Obie, I would really appreciate it. I should probably go; I have class this afternoon. But thanks for meeting with me.” After saying their goodbyes, Tony practically fled from the office.

Steve was waiting for him in the reception area, “How did it go?”

“I can’t- ask me again when I have more alcohol in my system.”

“That good, huh?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” said Tony, slipping on his sunglasses. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Steve pried the whole story out of Tony later that night after luring him out of his lab (and away from the vodka he had stashed in there) with a promise to make him a bacon cheeseburger. Tony knew Steve was really worried since he was voluntarily offering Tony artery-clogging food.

When Tony was done telling Steve what had happened, Steve actually seemed optimistic. “It sounds like this Stane guy is going to help you. Maybe he’ll finally be able to push through approval for your proposals,” Steve enthused.

Tony took a big bite of his burger to avoid voicing his own thoughts which were that Howard would only allow approval of Tony’s proposals over his dead body. “I guess,” replied Tony, sullenly.

Steve’s expression flipped back to concern and he turned around to rummage in the freezer. Steve pulled out a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Coffee, Coffee, BuzzBuzzBuzz and slid it across the table to Tony, “I’m sure everything will work out, Tony.” Oh god, Tony must really look terrible if Steve was bringing out ice cream. Tony mentally shrugged, _I guess eating my feelings is better than drinking them?_ But by the end of the night, after Tony shamelessly exploited Steve’s worry to dictate their TV selection and then force Steve to play Super Smash Brothers, Tony did feel better. Tony personally thought the bacon deserved most of the credit, but he supposed he might have to give Steve some as well.

\-------

If Tony had thought that he had liked Steve before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now that he actually _knew_ Steve. Everything that he had admired before about Steve obviously still applied. Tony had discovered all of the big parts that made up Steve within a week of meeting him. Steve was beautiful, brave, noble, humble and just a distressingly good person. And even though their fundamental personalities were so different (Steve’s idealism clashing with Tony’s cynicism), his insane levels of determination meant that Steve was stubborn enough to deal with anything Tony threw at him.

But now, things were so much worse because Tony knew Steve’s _details_. Tony knew that Steve was adorably old fashioned. He knew that Steve did in fact have a sense of humor, but that it alternated between being really goofy and so dryly deadpan that people often missed the fact that he was joking at all. Tony knew that Steve adored music and seemed to have a taste for catchy (and at times, honestly pretty trashy) pop music. And of course, because Steve was basically perfect, he had a lovely singing voice. When Tony sang, it mostly sounded like a bag of cats fighting. It’s why he listened to so much AC/DC.

Steve loved to read and when he was reading for fun, had a particular affinity for fantasy and science fiction (Tolkien being a favorite) that matched Tony’s own. Tony liked how whenever they watched TV, Steve always seemed so impressed by the special effects or cinematography. And he particularly liked how Steve was always willing to listen and indulge Tony whenever he inevitably went on a rant about the bad science in a show or movie (it was surprising how many people didn’t appreciate it when Tony talked through an entire movie). Tony knew Steve was a soldier through and through, but that he also had the soul of an artist (oh god, Tony was resorting to clichés to describe Steve - things were clearly pretty dire).

Mostly, Tony knew that even though he was super hot, Steve was basically a huge dork. He liked to take care of people, mainly by cooking for them. Steve also had a ridiculously good memory and liked to show off his random knowledge of things like military history and baseball statistics. And even though he had a practically perfect physique, Steve genuinely enjoyed exercising and eating healthily (yeah, Tony was never going to understand that). He also apparently couldn’t get drunk (seriously, what was up with that?) and had no allergies. Steve was so weird, and Tony, because clearly he was insane, liked it.

Tony knew that even though Steve wore the mantle of responsibility well, that in a lot of way, he was just as much of a kid as Tony was. Tony knew that Steve was lonely and that he missed his home and his family - even though both had been lost to him some time ago. It was so stupid and trite and a lot of things that Tony normally couldn’t stand, but Tony couldn’t help thinking that he and Steve slotted perfectly into each other’s lives, kind of like two puzzle pieces. So yeah, Tony knew Steve’s details and he still liked him, like a whole lot. It was kind of a big deal.

\-------

The day Tony realized just how screwed he really was started with exercise, like most horrible days. Steve had tricked Tony into going with him on his morning run by asking him to come before Tony had his coffee (when Tony was basically pre-verbal and would agree to anything). It was a particularly sneaky move and after had Tony woken up completely, he had categorically denied ever agreeing to do anything as awful as running. Steve, with a stupid smug grin on his stupid perfect face had just asked JARVIS to playback the footage of Tony agreeing to run, leaving Tony with no choice but to go put on his running clothes.

To make an excruciating run even worse (Steve’s runs basically constituted cruel and unusual punishment, they were long and seemingly full of only upwards hills), it had started to pour halfway through their return route, so by the time Tony and Steve got back to the house, they were both soaked to the skin. Steve stood in the dimly-lit entryway to the house, rain pounding outside, and shook his head, grinning as water droplets flew everywhere. Steve would be the type of person to like running in the rain, Tony just felt like a drowned rat.

“Ugh, it’s like having a golden retriever,” Tony complained, throwing a towel at Steve’s head.

Steve just caught the towel and continued to smile at Tony. He then reached behind himself to grab a fistful of his shirt and pull it over his head, leaving him standing in just his soaked through running shorts. Tony’s mouth went dry. “Here, give me your shirt, I’ll get a load of laundry started while we shower,” Steve said, holding out his hand.

“Um,” said Tony intelligently. Tony obviously couldn’t just take off his shirt because there was the small matter of the secret miniature electromagnet that was sitting in the middle of his chest.

Seeing Tony’s hesitation, Steve abruptly withdrew his hand and bit his lip, looking at Tony with concern, “Oh! I’m so sorry Tony, I forgot that you might not be comfortable with people seeing your scars. I’ll just-” Steve’s sentence trailed off as he shifted on his feet and gestured vaguely to the laundry room, looking supremely awkward.

Tony’s heart was thumping in his chest and he could hear blood rushing in his ears. Since his kidnapping, no one but Dr. Hurima had seen Tony’s chest. And just a few weeks ago, Steve mentioning his scars would have caused Tony to automatically go on the defensive and lash out at Steve in return. But now, all Tony wanted to do was show Steve what was perhaps his most dangerous secret. Tony didn’t give himself a moment to second guess his decision. Meeting Steve’s eyes, he stripped off his shirt and then removed the patch he kept over the arc reactor to block its light. The dimly lit entryway was suddenly bathed in soft blue light.

Steve’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. “Tony, what-” Steve’s hand rose and reached towards the arc reactor in what seemed like an involuntary motion before Steve clearly paused to think, fingers stopping centimeters from touching. Steve looked up from arc reactor to meet Tony’s gaze, the question clear in his eyes.

Tony bit his lip, “You can,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Steve’s eyes dropped back down to Tony’s chest as his fingers closed the distance to land on the arc reactor. Steve’s fingers traced the edges of the arc reactor and danced over its surface. Tony shivered, his breathing ragged and loud in the quiet of the entryway. Eventually Steve raised his head to meet Tony’s gaze once more. Instead of the disgust or revulsion that Tony had been terrified to find in Steve’s eyes, Steve’s expression was one of wonder.

“Tony, what is this?” Steve asked, voice hushed.

“It’s what’s keeping me alive,” Tony replied, his voice equally quiet.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, “What?” he breathed.

“The explosion during my kidnapping - the one I told you about, the one caused by a SI bomb - sent shrapnel into my chest and into my bloodstream. I would have died, but there was a doctor - a fellow captive - who saved my life and put a magnet in my chest to keep the shrapnel from reaching my heart. When I woke up, I designed the arc reactor to do the same thing.” Tony poured out the whole story, unable to damn the flow of words. He wanted Steve to know everything.

Steve’s expression had shifted from awe to horror as Tony spoke. “Tony-” he began, voice sounding wrecked.

Tony looked away from Steve’s gaze, “If it gets taken out, the shrapnel will rip into my heart in minutes and… I’ll die, I guess.” He looked back to Steve, meeting and holding his gaze, “No one but my doctor knows I have it. Not even Isaac.”

Steve reached out to place his hand against the arc reactor again, his other hand encircling Tony’s wrist so his fingers could press against Tony’s pulse. “Thank you,” Steve whispered, “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

 _Oh fuck_ , thought Tony faintly. _I basically just gave Steve my heart. I am so, so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting! Real life things interfered in my ability to write as much as I wanted. 
> 
> So I saw CA: Civil War this weekend and it was fantastic, but it obviously gave me so many Steve/Tony feelings. Which I then channeled into writing ~12,000 words of fluff. I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with this chapter, but it was already way to long and overdue so I just decided to post it. Anyways, enjoy the fluff while it lasts because in 2-3 chapters, we'll probably be back to angst. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Comments appreciated and you can contact me directly at lelantusfics@gmail.com if you have the urge to do so.


	10. How to Miss What’s Right in Front of You (especially if you’re as oblivious as Steve Rogers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Warnings: Some PTSD-like symptoms, major illness, description of the beginnings of a panic attack.

Steve was happy. It was new. Steve hadn’t had a lot of fun in his life; growing up sickly and frail in depression-era America and then living through a war practically guaranteed that. But he was having fun now. He was the kind of happy that came with laughing a lot. And you didn’t have to look far to find the source of Steve’s contentment. Obviously, it was Tony. It was always Tony.

Steve had finally figured Tony out. Well, he had mostly figured Tony out. Steve now knew that despite Tony’s ever-growing circle of casual acquaintances that he seemingly used and discarded at will, Tony was extremely loyal and devoted to his true friends - always willing to go above and beyond for them. That although charming and cocky most of the time, Tony was often plagued by periods of self-doubt and guilt - both feelings irrevocably connected to his relationship with Howard and his choices pre-kidnapping. Most importantly, Steve knew that although Tony hid it well, he was at his core a good person. Flawed, sure, but always working, struggling to do the right thing - just as much as Steve was.

Steve was just glad that Tony trusted him enough to show him his true self. Because the real Tony - the one he hid underneath his carefree, lackadaisical, playboy exterior - was amazing, everything that Steve could want in a friend.

Steve hadn’t been lying when he told Tony that he was his best friend. Tony was special to Steve. Tony was _important_. Maybe he had always been special. After all, from the moment they met, Tony had always been able to make Steve feel when nothing else did. And now, Steve knew that it was Tony who was responsible for keeping him grounded in this new time.

These days, Steve saw this century through Tony’s eyes. Tony, who viewed the world with an engineer’s eye - as problematic, but fixable. And because of Tony, Steve recognized that even though a lot had changed in the past 70 years (almost everything), it was still true that one person’s actions could make a difference. Steve didn’t know how he could have ever believed that he didn’t want anything from Tony beyond his silence and his cooperation? That he didn’t _need_ more from Tony.

Being friends with Tony was both incredibly easy - almost natural - and complicated at the same time. These days, Tony made it effortless to just be with him, to laugh, joke and spend all their time together. It was even surprisingly simple to talk about his past - at least indirectly - with Tony. Facing his memories was easier when Tony was there. But Tony had hidden depths. And no matter how close they had recently gotten, Steve still felt like Tony was holding part of himself back. And Steve was determined to know everything about Tony.

Steve’s desire to know all of Tony’s secrets always made him feel guilty about keeping his own secrets from Tony - namely, Captain America (which encompassed so many other lies and half-truths that Steve had lost count). Steve hated lying to Tony about his past, but he didn’t know how to even begin to have that conversation with Tony. And Steve knew that telling Tony he had been lying to him from the moment they met was almost guaranteed to cost him this new friendship with Tony.

Steve still desperately missed being Captain America. But Steve knew that assuming the mantle of Captain America again probably meant leaving Tony, and maybe losing for him good. There wasn’t a lot that scared him, but the thought of losing Tony definitely did. So Steve couldn’t bring himself to do it (to tell Tony, to leave). However, it didn’t change the fact that Steve was growing increasingly frustrated with the way his actions were limited as Nomad. And Steve knew that things couldn’t stay this way forever. There was a clock counting down his time with Tony, and pretty soon, it was going to run out. Steve had never expected to become this invested in Tony, in his relationship with Tony, when he had agreed to take this job. Pretty soon, it was definitely going to complicate matters.

\-------

Nomad punched the wall so hard that it cracked and began to crumble. It didn’t make him feel any better. He tried punching it again and decided he definitely needed a better way to deal with his feelings.

“Is this a bad time?” a mechanized voice asked from behind him.

Steve spun around to find Iron Man standing behind him. “Go away.” Steve really wasn’t good company for anyone right now, even Iron Man.

“Nope! Sorry Nomad. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re so hell-bent on destroying that perfectly innocent wall. Also, I come bearing gifts.”

“Gifts?” asked Steve skeptically, taking a step closer to Iron Man.

“Yep, gifts. And now I’m really glad I brought them, maybe they’ll cheer you up,” said Iron Man, throwing a short staff and a cell phone at Steve, both of which he caught. “Sorry they’re not gift wrapped.”

Steve started down at the items, uncomprehending. “What are they?”

Iron Man laughed. “Well, the thing that looks like a cell phone is a cell phone. Since we seem to be making teaming up a regular thing, it would probably be smart for us to be able to contact each other if necessary.”

“How do I know this is just a phone?” asked Steve.

Iron Man laughed again, “I respect that you have a healthy sense of paranoia, but I guess that this once, you’ll just have to trust me. It’s a regular burner phone - untraceable. Also, if I really wanted to track you - or even just figure out what you’re hiding under that cowl - I would have done it by now.”

Steve nodded. He and Iron Man had worked together multiple times over the past month, giving Iron Man plenty of opportunities to double cross him - and he hadn’t. Steve trusted him, even though he probably shouldn’t. Steve smiled, “Alright, I’ll keep the phone. What’s the staff?” The staff was short, no longer than a foot, and made of a dense, dark blue material.

Iron Man stepped forward and took the staff from Steve. He pressed a finger to an indent on the side and staff extended several feet in both directions, becoming almost as long as Steve. “The staff is a just a staff. Although admittedly made of a novel organic compound that gives it excellent strength and flexibility.”

Steve tilted his head, “Why?”

“Because you need a weapon.” Seeing Steve’s scowl Iron Man continued, “No, don’t look at me like that. I know you don’t like weapons, that’s why I designed you a non-lethal one that will still give you an edge in combat. One of these days, you might find yourself facing something more dangerous than a random doped-up mugger and you’re going to need something more than your fists if you’re going to finish the fight in one piece.” Iron Man sighed before continuing, “Look, you don’t have to use it. That’s why it’s retractable. You just have to carry it. Consider it a favor.”

Steve nodded jerkily and accepted the staff back from Iron Man, “Thank you.” It wasn’t Iron Man’s fault that he didn’t know Nomad’s reluctance to use weapons was only part of the reason he didn’t want the staff. Steve held the staff and missed his shield with a fierce ache.

“Good! Now, why don’t we spar. I’m sure it will be much more satisfying to punch me (if you can manage it) than that wall. And, you can try out the staff - I want to make sure it’s combat ready.” Steve finally smiled.

One exhilarating half an hour later (fighting with Iron Man was always a delightful challenge), Steve had finally pinned Iron Man to the floor, staff splayed across his torso, keeping Iron Man’s arms and repulsors out of play. “Do you yield?” asked Steve, grinning.

“For now,” grumbled Iron Man. Steve straightened up and helped Iron Man off of the ground. “Are you going to tell me what had your panties all in twist before I showed up?” Iron Man asked.

Steve sighed, “It’s just - nothing’s getting better. I’ve been doing this basically every night for over a month and nothing’s changed. Earlier, I stopped a dealer from selling drugs to a 14-year-old kid. And here’s the kicker, it was the same guy that I caught and had arrested weeks ago. He’s already out of jail and back to doing exactly what he was doing before. I just wish - I wish I could do something more.”

Iron Man was silent and still for long minutes before finally speaking. “You’re such an asshole,” was what he eventually came up with.

Steve felt his mouth drop open. “What?” he asked, shocked. That was definitely not what he had been expecting Iron Man to say.

“You heard me. You’re being an asshole. Do you know how many people you’ve saved since you’ve started your little vigilante project? Because I do. 112 directly, by my last count. And that’s not counting the number of lives you’ve indirectly saved by taking rapists, dealers, traffickers, and murderers off the streets. That number also doesn’t include the people that I’ve saved after I get the urge to do something stupidly heroic outside of my usual scope just because I have your stupid voice in the back of my head telling me it’s what I should do - those lives are on your ledger too. But you’re right, I’m sure all those hundreds of people would agree that nothing’s changed, that you haven’t made their lives better. So stop with the self-pity, it’s really not a good a look on you.”

Steve was smiling widely by the end of Iron Man’s tirade. He had already been feeling less maudlin after sparring, but now, he was truly feeling better - content with the way things were, for the time being. When Iron Man seemed to run out of steam Steve asked, “Are you finished?”

Iron Man paused, considering, before replying, “No. You need to promise me you’re not going to do something stupid just because you don’t think you’re doing enough. There’s only so much we can fix, only so much we can change. Don’t do anything that’s going to get you killed, or worse - caught.”

Steve sobered quickly and promised, “I won’t. Don’t worry, I’m not going to disappear.”

“Good.”

\-------

Tony was acting strange. And had been acting strange for a few days, now that Steve stopped to think about it. For one, Tony had been conspicuously absent for the past few days, seemingly perpetually in his lab. And when Steve had asked if he could read or sketch in the lab while Tony worked (as had been his habit recently), Tony had regretfully told him, “Sorry Cap, I’m working on projects with highly proprietary information that no one outside of Stark Industries R&D is allowed to see,” before disappearing for hours on end, leaving Steve to amuse himself. Which Steve was finding more challenging than it should have been. Ridiculously, Steve missed Tony, even though Tony hadn’t actually gone anywhere.

Tony was also acting… skittish (for lack of a better word) around Steve. Steve hadn’t realized how tactile Tony had been being with him until he stopped. There was no more Tony tucking his feet under Steve’s legs while they watched TV, no more casual touches when Tony brushed past him in the kitchen or the lab, and no more nudges from Tony’s feet when they squared off over a chess board. Actually, Tony wasn’t even around enough for them to do any of their normal activities together. And the one time Steve had cornered Tony long enough to convince him to spar, it had been a bit of a disaster.

About ten minutes in, Tony had gotten Steve on his back and was straddled over him, hands pinning Steve’s to the mat. Steve had smiled up at Tony, genuinely pleased. “That was good.” In the past month of regular sparring, Tony’s hand to hand combat had come a long way.

Tony had been breathing heavily and looking down at Steve when he had suddenly flushed and shifted on top of Steve. Then his eyes had gone wide and he had scrambled off of Steve, tripping backwards in his apparent haste to put some distance between them. “Um, sorry. I - I just remembered that I have something important to do. So I need to go and do… that,” Tony had rambled, practically fleeing from the gym. Steve had sat up on the mat, completely perplexed. _What was wrong with Tony?_

Tony couldn’t be avoiding him, right? Steve didn’t even know what he could have done to make Tony want to avoid him. Things between them had been good - great even, with Tony trusting him enough to show him the arc reactor.

Not one to let the issue fester, Steve confronted Tony later that day, eventually catching him after lying in wait in the kitchen. Tony had been bound to come and get coffee eventually. “Tony, is everything okay? You’ve been acting a little... off for the past few days,” Steve asked delicately, strategically blocking Tony’s path to the coffee maker.

Tony winced, his gaze going longingly to the coffee maker behind Steve, clearly wishing he could just get his caffeine and leave. Which Steve was determined not to let happen.  Apparently deducing that Steve wasn’t moving anytime soon, Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, “Okay, fine. Yes, I’m dealing with something right now, but you don’t need to worry about it. I’m working through it on my own. I’m trying to get over it - it’s just taking longer than expected.”

Steve was confused. He had no idea what Tony was saying. “Tony, what exactly is going on? Maybe I can help.”

Tony snorted, “You definitely can’t help. I’m sorry Steve, I just need some time to myself for the next few days.”

Steve did not like that answer at all. He wanted Tony to tell him what was wrong so that Steve could fix it. Steve had to ask, “It’s not anything I did, right? You’re not angry with me?”

Tony gave a little laugh, “No Steve, I’m definitely not mad at you. Maybe I’m mad at myself. Like I said, you shouldn’t worry. I’ll be okay in a few days.”

“Okay Tony,” said Steve skeptically. And then more seriously, “But if you’re not feeling better soon, I hope you’ll talk to me.” Tony nodded and Steve relented, allowing him access to the coffee machine and even offering Tony some Bailey’s in the hope that it might cheer him up a little bit. Tony finally laughed and added much more than a splash to his coffee before disappearing back up to his lab. Steve sighed and made his way to the gym, suspecting that sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.

\-------

Things did not get better in a few days. In fact, in Steve’s opinion, they got worse. Tony continued to keep his distance from Steve (and Steve was trying to respect Tony’s wishes so he was reluctantly leaving Tony alone). So Steve was surprised when a knock on his bedroom door interrupted his sketching. Steve paused, and looking up from his sketch of Peggy called out, “Come in!”

Tony appeared in his doorway, looking apprehensive. “Is everything okay, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going out later tonight - at like 10. To a club, Fusion. A friend is celebrating… something or other, I can’t remember,” Tony said, avoiding meeting Steve’s gaze.

Steve stiffened. Tony hadn’t been out clubbing in weeks, preferring to spend his nights at home - with Steve. Apparently that was no longer the case. “Okay, thank you for telling me. I’ll be ready to leave then,” Steve said, trying keep his voice calm and steady.

Tony finally looked at him, he was biting his lip. “Okay. Good. Great.” Then his gaze dropped to the drawing in front of Steve and his eyes widened, “Who’s that?”

Steve quickly covered the sketch and gave Tony a small smile, “It’s a girl I once had a crush on. The first girl I was serious about, actually. But I was overseas for so long - she fell in love with someone else.”

“Oh,” said Tony, shaking his head, “Of course there’s a girl. Um, I’m sorry for prying. I’ll see you tonight.” And before Steve could get a word in edgewise, Tony was gone, the door clicking shut behind him and leaving Steve even more confused.

Later that night, Steve came downstairs to find Tony already waiting for him. Steve saw Tony and his mind abruptly went blank. Tony looked… good. Well, Tony always looked good. But he had clearly taken extra care with his appearance tonight. He was dressed in tight black jeans that left nothing to the imagination and a practically see-through white t-shirt with a deep vee that showed off his collarbones. Over the t-shirt, he was wearing a fitted blazer. And Tony’s hair was carefully styled. Steve blinked rapidly and eventually managed to ask, “Are you ready?”

Tony looked at him a little oddly before replying, “Yeah, let’s go.”

They got to the club and Tony immediately slipped away, finding his group of friends who all greeted him enthusiastically, shoving drinks into his hands. Steve, as per usual, stationed himself in an unobtrusive corner that was close to Tony while also giving him a good view of most of the club. Over the next few hours, Steve watched Tony laugh, drink, dance and flirt his way through the club. It seemed that every time Steve looked, Tony was with a different person, a new someone who would lean in Tony’s space, run a hand up his arm or his side, and press their bodies together as they danced. Steve watched it all, silently furious. And he didn’t even know why he was so angry. All he kept thinking was that he didn’t like it when other people touched Tony as if he was theirs.

And then, towards the end of the night, Tony was dancing slowly with a beautiful girl. Steve watched as the girl leaned up and kissed Tony and something hot flared inside Steve. Tony briefly kissed her back before taking an abrupt step away and shaking his head, saying something to her that Steve couldn’t hear. It must not have been anything too bad because the girl smiled and took Tony’s phone (probably giving him her number), before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek and disappearing in the crowd. Tony looked up from his phone and met Steve’s eyes across the dance floor, his gaze sharp, almost accusatory.

Tony stalked towards Steve, “Let’s go. I’m done here.”

Steve couldn’t help asking, “She wasn’t your type?”

Tony laughed, “No Steve, she was definitely not my type. Not tonight anyways, not right now.” The car ride home was silent and tense. Steve wished he knew what to say to make everything better.

\-------

Things came to a head the next day. And it all started with an email from Isaac with the ominous subject line: _For Your Information_ . The body of the email was similarly vague: _I know it’s not true, but I thought you should be aware. All the best, Isaac._ There were several links attached. Steve clicked on them and was promptly horrified.

Steve grabbed his Stark Pad and headed up the lab. “JARVIS, tell Tony that I need to see him right now. It’s urgent.” JARVIS didn’t reply, but the door to the lab swung open and Steve stepped inside.

Tony looked up from whatever project he was working on, eyes questioning, “What’s up-”

Tony was cut off by Steve thrusting the Stark Pad at him and demanding, “Did you know about this?”

Tony’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose as flipped through the links on Steve’s Pad. Steve knew exactly what he was seeing. Attached to Isaac’s email were links to various tabloid articles, all with titles similar to: “Tony’s Mystery Man?” and all containing pictures of Tony and Steve together in public.

The pictures were… incriminating. In one, Tony and Steve were standing close together in front of a painting in a museum, Steve’s hand low on Tony’s back. In another, Tony and Steve were sitting at a cafe table and Tony was laughing, Steve looking at him with a fond expression. In the next, Steve was smiling and handing Tony a cup of coffee, hands brushing. Taken out of context, the pictures painted a fairly convincing picture of two people in love.

“Well?” Steve prompted Tony, who had been entirely too silent.

“I knew about some of them,” Tony said slowly, finally looking up from the Stark Pad.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me about it?” Steve asked angrily.

Tony looked at Steve with fiery eyes, “What exactly are you angry about Steve? That you’re in the news at all? That you’re being linked to a man? Or that you’re being linked to ‘dissolute teenage playboy’ Tony Stark?”

Tony’s suggestions just made him angrier. “Is that really what you think of me? I thought we were passed this bullshit,” Steve snapped, words clipped.

Tony’s mouth dropped open and he silently mouthed the word “bullshit.” Steve rolled his eyes, he knew Tony had a thing about him swearing. While Tony was working through his shock, Steve took a deep breath and tried to figure out just why he was so angry.

Steve hated Tony’s public persona and the fact that Tony had to live in the spotlight at all. He hated it because the spotlight was never kind to Tony, often giving the world the entirely wrong impression of Tony. Mostly, Steve hated that his relationship with Tony was being made public property, that it had the potential to be twisted by people who only cared about selling papers. And Steve realized that he really hated sharing any part of Tony with someone else and especially with the media. Those moments captured on film should have been just _theirs._

So that’s pretty much what he told Tony. “I’m angry that people think they have the right to know anything about your - and by extension, my - private life. And I’m angry that newspapers keep telling lies about you.”

Tony blinked at him, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’”

Tony looked at him vaguely guiltily, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal. I’ve spent so long dealing with the press writing whatever they want about me that I didn’t think twice about these articles.”

Steve sighed, his anger receding. “I’m sorry too. Sorry for making you think I was angry with you. I’m not. And I admire that you don’t let what these people say about you affect you,” Steve replied, feeling the need to apologize as well. And Steve really did admire Tony. Steve knew that he would not deal nearly as well with having a spotlight as bright as the one that was on Tony being shined on him.

Tony laughed, “Well, I’ve kind of had to develop a thick skin. It was that or spend my nights crying myself to sleep.”

Steve smiled back at Tony and decided to take this opportunity to try and fix… whatever it was that was bothering Tony, to reassure him however he could. “Tony, you know that nothing other people say could ever make me like you less, right? That at this point, there is even very little that you could _do_ that would make me like you less. You’re my friend, no matter what.”

A lot of complicated emotions seemed to flit across Tony’s face, but the one he eventually settled on seemed to be relief? Or maybe acceptance? And the next thing Steve knew, he had an armful of Tony who was squeezing him tight and speaking softly into the crook of his neck, “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Steve breathed a sigh of relief, he had finally managed to say the right thing - the magic words to make Tony feel better.

And after that, things went back to normal, almost as if the week of Tony avoiding Steve had never happened. Except that he and Tony seemed to spend even more time together, if that were possible. And Tony was back to touching Steve often and unselfconsciously, often spending hours sprawled over Steve on the couch watching TV, reading or working on his Stark Pad. Steve was mostly just happy that Tony was back to being happy.

\------

A few days later, LA was hit by a cold snap. Uncharacteristically, temperatures during the night dropped to below 40 degrees, frosts forming on the grass in front of the house. Steve lay awake shivering, trying to force himself to go to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, all he could focus on was the memory of icy water surrounding him and a bone-deep feeling of cold. Steve tossed and turned, sleep eluding him. A soft knock at his door caused Steve’s eyes to fly open. He sat up, sheets pooling around his bare chest, and saw Tony standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” Tony whispered, edging closer to the bed.

“Hi,” said Steve, voice equally quiet.

“JARVIS told me your vital signs were a little all over the place, are you okay?”

Steve paused, considering just sending Tony away (he shouldn’t have to deal with this) before eventually saying, “It’s the cold. I had a bad experience with it when I was in the Army, a near-death type of experience. Tonight, I couldn’t seem to sleep without remembering.” Steve finished speaking and wished once again that he could just tell Tony the truth. It would make everything so much easier.

“JARVIS, can you please turn up the heat in the house?” Tony immediately asked.

“Of course Mr. Stark,” JARVIS replied.

“Thank you,” Steve said. Maybe he would be able to sleep in a few hours once the house warmed up.

Tony still didn’t leave. He hovered at the edge of Steve’s bed, biting his lip before finally whispering, “I could stay, if you wanted. It would be warmer.”

Steve’s mind flashed back to cold nights huddled together with the rest of the Howling Commandos, all trying to stay warm. Steve barely paused to think before throwing back the blanket and scooting over. Tony slipped into the bed, curling up next to him. Their bodies were barely touching, only the tips of Tony’s fingers and toes brushing Steve’s side and leg. But Tony still radiated warmth.

“Good night,” murmured Tony, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good night, Tony,” breathed Steve, before falling asleep quickly and easy, Tony a soothing presence next to him. And remarkably, his sleep was uninterrupted by nightmares. Steve woke up the next morning to an empty bed, Tony apparently having slipped out before dawn, leaving Steve to wish that he had stayed. Later that day, when Steve saw him, Tony didn’t say anything about the previous night. Steve, taking his cue from Tony, didn’t mention their night of literally sleeping together, but resolved to find some way to thank Tony for giving him the best night’s sleep he had had since waking up in this century.

\-------

Tony and Steve were cooking when the call came in. Or rather, Steve was cooking while simultaneously trying to teach Tony some culinary basics. Mostly because Steve was convinced that when he left, he would be essentially leaving Tony to starve, and he really didn’t want that on his conscience. Tony was gleefully not paying attention. Instead of learning how to marinate steak, Tony was perched on a countertop, scrolling through recipes on his Stark Pad, reading out and bookmarking increasingly elaborate ones to con Steve into making. “Oh, baked Alaska requires a blowtorch! That could be fun,” Tony mused.

“Tony, under no circumstances am I letting you take a blowtorch out of lab. You would probably burn down the house,” Steve replied.

Tony pouted briefly and then cackled as he read aloud, “‘The ten most difficult recipes to make at home,’ this article sounds promising.” Before Steve could reply, Tony’s phone rang and Tony answered with a jaunty, “Hello, you’ve reached Tony!”

Steve watched as Tony’s smile slipped away and his face slowly drained of color. “Okay,” rasped Tony, his voice hoarse, “I’ll be there right away.”

Steve stepped close to Tony, concerned. Tony did not look good. “Tony, what’s wrong?”

Tony looked at Steve, eyes wide with shock. “It’s granddad, it’s Isaac. He’s at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. They think there was a mix up with his medication. It looks like he overdosed on benzodiazepines. He’s in critical condition, a coma they said,” Tony spoke, his voice cracking towards the end.

Steve felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, “Oh god.”

* * *

**Interlude: Tony’s Stronger than He Looks**

The ride to the hospital was largely silent. Steve had barely spoken a word since Tony had told him about Isaac. Tony drummed his fingers on the dashboard, restless. He wanted to scream, to cry, to - just talk to someone, preferably Steve. Tony glanced sideways at Steve’s profile. Steve’s eyes were fixed on the road and his jaw was visibly clenched. Tony couldn’t stand the quiet anymore and he opened his mouth. But before he could say anything, Steve interrupted, “Tony, not - not now.” Tony nodded and closed his mouth. Tony could wait.

As soon as they got to the hospital, they were ushered into Isaac’s private room. Isaac lay on a hospital bed, pale, motionless, and hooked up to too many machines to count. Tony stared in sort of shocked disbelief. This couldn’t be his grandfather, could it? Isaac should be awake and gently teasing Tony and Steve, eyes sparkling with wit and mischief. Tony wanted his grandfather back.

Steve took one look at Isaac and then ripped his gaze away. He clenched his jaw further (if that was even possible) and then abruptly, without a single word, turned on his heel and left the room. Tony could only stare in shock, furious that Steve would leave him alone to deal with this. That he would have to face this without Steve’s strength to lean on. Tony shook his sharply, no. He didn’t have time to think about Steve right now, Isaac needed Tony to be 100% focused on him. Tony stepped forward and touched Isaac’s hand. It was still warm, obviously. Tony felt for Isaac’s pulse, just to reassure himself. It was there, weak but steady. Tony took a deep breath and went to speak to the doctors. Isaac had to be okay.

As it turned out, Tony was officially listed as Isaac’s medical proxy and had been ever since he turned 18 and, you know, “returned” from his kidnapping. Tony spent over an hour going through paperwork and then grilling the doctors in charge of Isaac’s case. Tony was not a biologist or a doctor, but he damn well knew enough to ensure that Isaac was getting the best care possible.

Overall, the doctors seemed optimistic about Isaac’s prognosis and Tony felt something unclench inside of him, a tiny bit of his worry and fear slipping away. “Recovery from this type of overdose is usually possibly - death only occurs in a very few cases. Symptoms usually begin to abate in 36 hours, so we should know something more in the next few days. However, you should prepare yourself for the possibility of complications. Your grandfather is significantly older than the individuals we usually see with this type of overdose and he has other health problems that could interfere with a quick recovery. Additionally, we believe that he may have ingested some other medication in addition to the benzodiazepine, but we still don’t know what it is and it could complicate his recovery. At this point, the best we can do is closely monitor him and hope he wakes up.”

Tony nodded and thanked the doctors, assuring them that no expense would be spared in making sure Isaac had the best treatment possible. Tony, would of course be looking further into the biochemistry of benzodiazepine overdoses and exploring any other possible treatments on his own, but it was a relief to hear that Isaac had a good shot at waking up and recovering. When he had asked the doctors exactly how the overdose occurred, no one seemed to have a good answer for Tony. The best explanation he got was that the pharmacy that made up Isaac’s regular prescriptions had probably given Isaac the wrong medication. Needless to say, Tony would be investigating that as well.

Tony also took some time to comfort a distraught Mrs. Trilby, who had been parked in the waiting room, refusing to leave until someone would give her an update on Isaac. Mrs. Trilby had been the one to find Isaac unconscious and call the ambulance. Tony held her hand as he told her Isaac’s prognosis and then let her cry on his shoulder for a few minutes, gingerly patting her on the back. Tony was not good at dealing with grief, but he was doing his best.

Finally, much later, he was able to go back to Isaac’s room. He needed to see him one more time before leaving. Tony was exhausted, mentally and emotionally. All he wanted was to go home, sleep and maybe yell at Steve a little bit (and then cry on his shoulder). The hospital was under strict orders to call Tony the moment Isaac’s condition changed - whether it was for better or worse. Tony walked into Isaac’s room and stopped short. Howard was standing at Isaac’s bedside. “What are you doing here?” Tony demanded, as soon as he had gotten over his shock.

“Why wouldn’t I be here, he’s my father,” Howard replied, calmly.

“Well, you didn’t care that he was your father when you forced him out of his own company years ago,” Tony shot back. Howard had no business coming here and acting like he _cared_.

Howard looked at Tony, his face expressionless. “Maybe I came for you.” Tony snorted in disbelief and turned his head away, breaking eye contact. Howard continued, “How are you, Tony?”

“Oh you know, just peachy. My favorite person is on death’s door and my father chooses _now_ for us to have a conversation. What, do you finally want to talk about how you’ve refused to even consider a single one of my SI proposals?” Tony asked, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

Howard arched a single brow, “Well, if you wish to discuss your work for Stark Industries, perhaps now is a good moment. You should carefully consider exactly what you’re doing by declining to work on our defense and security R&D. What Stark Industries produces right now is Isaac’s legacy, why would you want to work on something different? Don’t you want to honor him?”

Tony stared at Howard with what he was sure was an absolutely incredulous expression, “I can’t believe you’re using the fact that and my grandfather - and your father, incidentally - is in a coma to _emotionally blackmail_ me into designing weapons. That is a new low, even for you.” Howard was unbelievable, and not in a good way.

Howard shrugged, “Perhaps I’m trying to act in your best interests. With the way you’re acting, you’ll be lucky to have any legacy at all.”

Tony felt anger flare hotly through him. His “best interests” indeed, more like Howard’s best interests. But then he thought of Iron Man, of everything he was working on, of the possibility of a “Stark Solutions,” and felt his anger subside. Howard wasn’t worth getting upset over.  Isaac believed in him, Steve believed in him, and that was enough for Tony. He didn’t need Howard. Howard had stopped caring for anything that wasn’t Stark Industries the moment Tony’s mother had died giving birth to him. Tony just had to accept that.

Tony spoke quietly, his voice deadly calm, “My legacy is going to leave yours in the dust. One day soon, you’re going to regret writing me off. People won’t say, ‘Tony Stark? He’s Howard Stark’s son.’ They’ll say, ‘Who’s Howard Stark? Oh, he’s Tony Stark’s father, that’s right.’”

Howard was silent, eyes hard, mouth set grimly in a flat line. Finally, he spoke, “Goodbye Tony.”

Tony looked away from Howard, focusing on Isaac. Isaac was who was important. “Goodbye, dad.” It felt pretty final and Tony was miraculously… okay.

\-------

As soon as Tony got home, he poured himself a couple of fingers of scotch. He then asked, “JARVIS, where’s Steve?” Steve had stayed long enough at the hospital to hear Isaac’s prognosis and then had left, leaving Tony to sort out all of the details of Isaac’s hospital stay and deal with Howard. Tony was still furious. And he was terrified, so scared that Isaac wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream at Steve or latch onto him and never let go. Tony supposed he would figure it out when he saw Steve.

“Captain Daniels is in the gym,” replied JARVIS promptly.

“Show me video footage, J?” Tony asked. And there was Steve, literally beating the stuffing out of a punching bag. Tony watched as particularly vicious punch split the skin of the bag and ripped it from its hangings, sending it flying. Tony arched an eyebrow, knocked back the rest of his drink, and went to confront Steve.

* * *

Steve stared down at the bag lying on floor, breathing heavily. He didn’t feel any better and he couldn’t seem to erase the image of Isaac lying in a hospital bed from his mind. Steve had taken one look at Isaac, who for all intents and purposes wasn’t really Isaac anymore, and had felt his breathing speed up, heart racing. It had seemed like the walls of the hospital room were pressing in on him and he had needed to leave, to get out of there. So he had basically fled, leaving Tony alone.

Steve didn’t know how he would handle losing another person important to him - losing the last person with a link to his past, the last person who knew who he truly was. And if he lost Isaac, he would also probably lose his best chance to be Captain America again. As soon as Steve had the thought, he immediately felt awful for worrying about himself when his friend was sick and possibly dying. And he felt even worse when he remembered the expression on Tony’s face when Steve had left him. Tony had looked at him with a sort of horrified disappointment and Steve knew that he was letting Tony down, going back on his promise to always be there for Tony, no matter what.

Steve was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Tony entering the gym. So he was startled when a voice from behind him spoke, “You left.”

Steve felt his shoulders sag as he turned to face Tony. “I left,” he affirmed, voice quiet. Tony’s face was cloudy and Steve couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Why?” asked Tony, sharply. As if he didn’t think whatever answer Steve gave would be good enough to justify what he had done. And maybe it wasn’t.

“I can’t watch another person I love die. But I’m sorry I left. You deserve better, Isaac deserves better,” Steve said softly, his words stumbling over each other. He wanted Tony to understand. Steve closed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts, and when he opened them again, Tony was close, right in his space. Warm brown eyes were staring up into his, soft and understanding. Steve took in a shaky breath and before he could continue his explanation (he had to make things okay with Tony, he had to be what Tony needed), Tony’s hands came up to cup the back of his head, pulling it down, and then Tony’s lips were meeting his in a soft kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! ~62,000 words later and they finally kiss! Thanks for sticking with this story through my rather exhaustive background building! And a huge thanks for all the comments you left on the last chapter - I loved them :D Anyways, the alternative title for this chapter was: Tony (as always) deals poorly with feelings and Steve is Captain Oblivious (to his own feelings, to Tony’s) and it did end up angstier than expected… so my apologies. Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Oh, and an obvious disclaimer: all medical stuff in this chapter should be taken with a grain of salt as it has all been gleaned from reading wikipedia articles.


	11. Mutually Assured Destruction (what if saying “I love you” ruins us both?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Explicit sexual content (please see end notes for a further explanation)

This kiss started out sweet and chaste. It was a way for Tony to tell Steve that he didn’t have to deal with this alone, that regardless of what happened with Isaac, Steve would still have Tony - a person who loved him - without having to put any of those (frankly pretty embarrassing) sentiments into words. Because as much as Tony liked to talk, nine times out of ten, he still somehow managed to come up with the wrong words for any given situation. And his track record for saying the right thing to _Steve_ in particular was even worse. So instead of giving Steve useless, fickle words, Tony gave him a kiss. A kiss that was meant to comfort and to reassure.

But even a fairly innocent press of their lips was enough to send sparks shooting through his body. Tony was achingly aware that this, right here, was everything he had wanted for weeks but didn’t think he could have. And then, Tony couldn’t really help himself. What could he say, self-control had never really been his strong suit.

Tony’s tongue darted out, just to taste a little more of Steve’s lips and Steve’s mouth opened under his in silent gasp. And very quickly, the kiss turned into something different altogether - a hot, wicked burn that fanned the sparks coursing through Tony into a flame.

And okay, Tony had kissed a lot of people in his time, but none of those kisses had ever felt like this one. Like if he didn’t keep kissing the person, governments would fall, oceans would dry up and the sun would flicker out of existence. Like he needed to keep kissing the person more than he needed to breathe. But then again, he had never kissed someone he was in love with before. And he had never kissed Steve before. Somehow, he suspected Steve was the key. It was good. It was so good that Tony didn’t really know how to process what was happening. And then miracle of miracles, Tony’s brain just - shut off. And his entire world became kissing Steve - the slick, searing press of their mouths together.

Tony’s tongue tangled with Steve’s as his hands pushed into Steve’s hair, keeping Steve exactly where he wanted him, and all he could think was _more, I need more._ Tony scraped his teeth over Steve’s bottom lip in a rough caress and Steve groaned - the sound music to Tony’s ears. And then, Tony felt Steve’s hands come up to grip Tony’s shoulders and Tony had a brief moment of fervent joy where he was sure that Steve was going to pull him closer and finally bring the rest of their bodies into contact. But instead, Steve used his leverage to push Tony away, breaking them apart.

Tony stumbled back a step and gave Steve a wary glance, really hoping that Steve wasn’t going to do something idiotic like punch Tony for stealing the best kiss of his life. Steve stared at Tony with wide, stunned eyes. As if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Steve also looked completely debauched - hair in disarray, pupils blow and a flush high on his cheeks. Tony wanted him fiercely and wondered just what it would take for him to get Steve’s mouth back on his. Because a kiss that heated, that fantastic couldn’t come from desire that was one-sided, could it?

After a minute of charged silence, Steve finally spoke, his voice hoarse, “What was that?”

Okay, not the undying declaration of love (or lust, Tony would take either) that he had been hoping for, but Tony could work with it. Tony took a deep breath and spoke, “Well, that all depends. If you want, it can just be a kiss, comfort from one friend to another, and tonight we’ll go our separate ways and we can forget that it happened.” _Please don’t choose that, please don’t take the out I’m giving you_ , Tony silently begged. “Or - or, I could kiss you again and neither of us has to go to bed alone.” And Steve had to know that Tony wasn’t just offering one night, that he was offering _everything_ he had to give (however meager it might be) - up to and including his heart. After all, no matter what he _said_ to Steve, Tony definitely didn’t kiss his friends or his one night stands like that. And actions spoke louder than words and all that, right?

Steve’s entire expression crumpled. Before he said a single word, Tony knew what his answer was going to be, and felt something shatter inside of him. Probably his heart. “Tony, we can’t,” Steve said, his voice heavy with… something. Pity? Regret?

Tony heard a sort of dull roaring in his ears and felt everything kind of… slide out of focus for a second. Tony panicked. He couldn’t stand here and listen to Steve explain exactly why he didn’t want Tony, not if he ever wanted to be able to look Steve in the eyes again. And he needed to leave before Steve realized just how much Tony had _cared_ about his answer, how much his rejection had gutted Tony _._ Tony couldn’t fall apart in front of Steve, not after that kiss - he had to salvage _some_ of his pride.

So Tony somehow dredged up a smile to offer Steve (praying that it wasn’t coming off as a grimace) before cutting off anything else Steve might have been about to say with a, “Yeah, okay.” Tony gave a small chuckle that he hoped sounded more like actual laughter to Steve than it did to him, “We can just chalk that up to emotions running high on all accounts. Goodnight, Steve.” And not giving him a chance to reply, Tony turned his back on a confused? sorrowful? Steve and fled the room.

“Tony!” he heard Steve call out behind him, but he didn’t stop or acknowledge the shout in any way, speeding up his steps until he was pounding up the stairs at almost a run - desperate to get away.

Tony flung open the door to his lab and then quickly shut it behind him, “JARVIS, initiate blackout.” All the windows to Tony’s lab went dark and the door behind him engaged its extra security, locking tightly.

“Sir, Captain Daniels is inquiring about your location. He wishes to speak to you.”

Tony’s thoughts raced. God, what could he tell Steve that would keep him away? “Tell him that I’m in the lab and dealing with finalizing the insurance and other arrangements for Isaac’s hospitalization-” Tony immediately felt guilty for using his grandfather as an excuse and mouthed a silent, quick apology to Isaac before continuing, “-tell him that we can talk tomorrow.”

Tony waited in tense silence for Steve’s reply. Finally, JARVIS spoke, “Captain Daniels says that you should contact him immediately if you require any assistance in making those arrangements and that he will be waiting to speak with you first thing in the morning.” JARVIS’s tone had a faint air of censure, as if he was observing all of this and disapproving. And really, the last thing Tony needed right now was judgement from his _AI_.

As soon as JARVIS finished speaking, Tony slumped against the door in relief. Tomorrow. He had until tomorrow morning to put himself back together and face Steve with some semblance of normality. Tony needed to tamp down his feelings for Steve and preferably find a way to get rid of them altogether if he wanted to salvage their friendship. Tony thought about his day - Isaac’s illness, his confrontation with Howard, Steve running away, Steve rejecting him - and shuddered. God. Okay. Clearly, he had a lot of shit to work through, but first, he needed another drink.

\-------

Drinking had not been Tony’s best idea. To be fair, it was just another bad idea in a string of bad ideas. But now that Tony was tipsy, it was a lot harder to either avoid thinking about Steve or to think about him rationally. Tonight, Tony was clearly going to be an emotional drunk. All Tony could think about was that Steve didn’t want him _that way_. As a friend, maybe. But not as anything more. Or, if by some miracle he did, then he didn’t want Tony enough to work through whatever hang-ups or objections he had to their relationship. Either way, the situation was not flattering for Tony.

But Tony supposed he couldn’t be surprised that someone like Steve didn’t want someone like him. He had never really thought he was good enough for Steve in any capacity, let alone a romantic one. There were a lot of reasons not to want him, Steve could take his pick. Steve was bright, wholesome, humble, and good. Tony was categorically none of those things. _Selfish_ . Tony took a sip of his drink. _Arrogant._ Another sip. _Shallow_ . Sip. _Failure_ . A sip, a heavy swallow. _Murderer, so much blood on your hands._ Tony drained the rest of the glass, the scotch burning on its way down. And he had hurt Steve a lot, in those first few weeks. At the time, Tony had wanted to make him suffer.

Steve was probably making the right call. There was no way that Tony would be anything other than a disaster in a relationship. And there was the fact that his superhero habit might end up killing him at an early age. Definitely not what one looked for in a boyfriend. He couldn’t believe that he had been stupid enough to go and fall in love with Steve in the first place. “So stupid,” he murmured to himself. He supposed he couldn’t really blame himself for falling in love with Steve, since it had happened mostly by accident. If anyone was to blame it was probably Steve for being so… Steve.

Tony shut his eyes and buried his head in his arms. God, he had been practically throwing himself at Steve for weeks. How had he not realized that his entire plan to befriend Steve had basically consisted of Tony stealth-dating him? _Well, it's not like I’ve ever dated anyone before,_ thought Tony glumly. Tony had never been serious about someone before the way he was serious about Steve. But of course Steve wouldn’t want to be what was essentially Tony’s relationship trial run. _I am such an idiot._

Tony eventually let the amount of alcohol he had consumed dull his thoughts and pull him under. He passed out on the couch in the corner of his lab ( _Steve’s couch,_ an extremely unhelpful part of his brain decided to point out) and woke up hours later feeling marginally better. Or at least, marginally better prepared to deal with everything.

Tony called the hospital and received an update on Isaac - there had been no change in his condition overnight. The doctors assured him that at this stage, no news was good news. That it meant Isaac was stable and less likely to go into an unexpected decline. Tony promised that he would be by later that day to visit and get an update in person.

Howard… was Howard and Tony was done thinking and worrying about him, at least for the time being. It could wait until Isaac was better.

And Steve. Okay. So Steve didn’t want Tony as anything more than a friend. It didn’t have to be the end of the world. Tony would eventually get over this - crush (or soul-consuming love, whatever, Tony wasn’t into labels). Sure, Tony hadn’t managed to get over it in the week right after his initial realization - when he had been desperately trying to do so - but now, he had definitive proof that Steve didn’t feel the same way about him. You see, the problem before was that Tony had had _hope_ . There had been a tiny flicker of optimism in his chest that had refused to be extinguished. A flicker that had whispered, _he might love you back._

Tony had allowed himself to be seduced by that whisper. He had hoped… but whatever, it was fine. There was nothing like blatant rejection - _Tony, we can’t_ \- to crush all hope. Tony didn’t need hope. Everything was fine. Tony was _fine._ It wasn’t like he was going to anything stupid.

* * *

**Six Hours Later**

Tony woke up in a hospital.

Okay, so Tony had done something stupid. And it wasn’t the minor kind of stupid (showing up to that final drunk, hitting on that girl when her boyfriend had been _right_ there) that mostly just caused people (Pepper) to shake their heads mournfully and say, “Oh, Tony.” No. What Tony had done was a whole different level of stupid, the kind that only Tony seemed capable of achieving (like being kidnapped by domestic terrorists).

The door to his hospital room opened and Dr. Hurima stepped in, a small smile on her face, “Tony, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

Tony managed to smile back, “Dr. Hurima, not that it’s not great to see you - because it is - but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Nevada?”

Dr. Hurima, hummed and grabbed Tony’s medical chart, flipping it open and scanning the most recent page. “Well, I’m listed as your primary doctor so when your admitting doctor saw that-” she broke off speaking to look down and nod at Tony’s glowing chest, “-he panicked and called me for a consult. He couldn’t ask you what it was since you were a bit unconscious at the time. As soon as I heard you were in the hospital, I got on a plane - it’s only about an hour long flight.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow at her, “You just couldn’t resist a chance to have me as your patient again, could you? I always knew that I was your favorite.”

Dr. Hurima’s eyes sparkled, “You’re definitely something, Tony. Now, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Tony sighed, “I’ll take the good news first since I’m pretty sure I already know what the bad news is.”

Dr. Hurima looked at Tony with an expression full of sympathy, “Well, the good news is that you’re 100% okay. You probably passed out due to a combination of smoke inhalation, CO poisoning and dehydration. As soon as we got some oxygen and fluids in you, you perked right up. The bad news - well, here’s the bad news.” Dr. Hurima held out her cell phone to Tony. On the screen was the front page of CNN which bore, in bright red, the headline, ‘Is Tony Stark Iron Man?’ Underneath was a picture of Tony in the Iron Man suit, helmetless. The picture was slightly blurry and taken from a distance, but it was pretty unmistakably him.

“Fuck,” was Tony’s eloquent reply.

* * *

**Earlier That Day**

Even after he had gotten off the phone with Isaac’s doctors and generally made himself look less hungover, it was still pretty early in the morning. Tony glanced at the time and thought he could convincingly delay his talk with Steve for another few hours, giving him enough room in his schedule to spend some quality time in the armor. If ever Tony had needed the stabilizing influence of being Iron Man, it was now.

Tony soared through the sky looking for… he didn’t quite know what. Acceptance? A solution? Maybe a friend? He was seriously contemplating calling Nomad when he was distracted by a plume of smoke in the distance. Tony flew towards the source.

It was a fire. Of course it was a fire. A bad one too, by the look of it - a big warehouse engulfed in flames, surrounded by fire trucks, ambulances and police cars, lights all flashing. For a second, Tony actually contemplated not helping, seeing as the last time he had tried to help during a fire, things had kind of gone to shit (see the millions worth of accidental property damage). And really, Tony didn’t need to make his day any worse. But then his conscience piped up - these days, his conscience usually took either the form of Steve or Nomad - and he was talking to the incident commander, getting permission to and instructions on how to help, and flying into the warehouse.

20 minutes later, he was doing a final circuit of the warehouse, double and triple checking that there weren’t any other people stuck inside (having already helped a few stragglers out) while the firemen worked on controlling and dousing the blaze from outside. Just before he was about to leave and declare the building cleared, through the smoke, JARVIS picked up the outline of a small body huddled underneath a desk, almost entirely out of view.

Tony ducked his head and saw a young girl - she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old - pale and still, soot covering her white skin. “Shit,” Tony murmured, “JARVIS, give me a vitals reading.” JARVIS relayed the information - it wasn’t good. The girl’s heart rate was much too high and her respiration rate and oxygen levels were much too low. Tony knew that it was probably due to a mix of smoke inhalation and CO poisoning (JARVIS had been helpfully informing him of the high toxin levels in the air) and that if the girl didn’t get some oxygen soon, she probably wouldn’t wake up again. Fuck. It would take minutes she didn’t have just to get her outside and into the care of paramedics.

Tony’s mind raced as he scooped the girl up into his arms and he quickly realized that he only really had one option. Tony reached up to unclasp his helmet from the rest of the suit. “Sir, I would advise against removing your helmet, you will be exposed to dangerous levels of smoke and toxins,” JARVIS stated. Tony scoffed and ignored JARVIS. He removed the helmet and then carefully placed it over the head of the girl. The helmet was built to filter out most toxins in the air and it also had a small independent oxygen supply. It wouldn’t keep all the smoke and CO out as it wasn’t connected to the suit, but it was the girl’s best chance to make it out of here alive.

As soon as he removed the helmet, Tony’s eyes began to water and he started to cough, smoke quickly irritating his eyes, nose and mouth. Tony ducked his head and stumbled forward, pushing himself towards the exit. Minutes later, Tony eventually burst through a door and outside into the crisp air. He was lightheaded and dizzy, taking great heaving breaths, trying to get enough oxygen into his lungs. _Diminished lung capacity due to the arc reactor housing,_ Tony’s brain helpfully supplied.

Tony met the wide, startled eyes of a fireman and he was just able to pass the girl in his arms to the other man before his vision began to blur and fade. His last coherent thought before he passed out was, _shit, Steve is going to be so pissed about this._

* * *

**Present**

So Tony was in the hospital. Again. For the second time in under six months. And he had just accidentally outed himself as Iron Man. Whoops.

As soon as he finished skimming the article proclaiming Iron Man’s identity, Tony looked back up at Dr. Hurima. “There was a girl, the last person that I helped out of the fire, do you know if she’s okay?” he asked, desperate to know.

Dr. Hurima’s gaze softened and she gave Tony a fond look, “I don’t know the exact condition of any of the people taken out of the fire, but I do know that there haven’t been any casualties yet. I can find out her status if you want. But no matter what Tony, you saved a lot of lives today. You should be proud.”

Tony looked away and swallowed thickly, unsure of how to deal with such sincere praise. He didn’t think he really deserved it. Dr. Hurima seemed to take pity on him, “Before I go and find out the status of the survivors from the fire, there’s someone here to see you, if you feel up to having a visitor?”

Tony’s heart sped up and he immediately thought of and hoped for Steve before he remembered that right now, things between them were… strained, at best. Tony nodded and the door opened to reveal Pepper, who immediately rushed into the room to stand by Tony’s bedside. Pepper stood there and gazed down at him, her eyes large and tearful, “Oh Tony.”

Oh no, Tony was not equipped to deal with this. “Aw Pep, don’t make that face - I’m fine! Doc, I can get out of this bed, right?” Tony asked.

Dr. Hurima gave him an amused look, “Yes, of course, Tony,” before turning and leaving the room, giving Pepper and Tony some privacy.

Tony immediately pushed himself out of the hospital bed, “See look, I’m standing and everything! Oh wow, okay. So I’m in a hospital gown and a little naked, especially in the back - there’s a breeze - but I’m totally good.”

Pepper gave a watery chuckle before pulling him into a tight hug and stating, “Promise me you won’t ever do something that idiotic ever again.”

Tony slid his arms around Pepper and gently patted her on the back before pulling away. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Are you talking about the whole walking through a fire without proper equipment thing or the outing myself as a superhero thing? Or are we just talking about the superhero thing in general?” he asked, grinning.

Pepper raised an eyebrow before giving him a wide, slightly evil smile. “Oh don’t worry, we’re going to talk about _all_ of it, at great length, later tonight. But right now, I have to get you camera ready.”

“Camera ready? What? Pepper, what are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Massachusetts?” Now that he had gotten over the shock of seeing Pepper, Tony’s mind was suddenly reeling with questions and things he had to deal with now that he was awake. Isaac, he had to check in with Isaac’s doctors. And shit, what was he going to do about Iron Man? And Steve. But no, Tony couldn’t think about Steve in depth right now or he might just fall apart.

Pepper’s voice interrupted his silent freak out, “-and as soon as I saw the picture of you on TV and they said ‘Iron Man’ had been taken to an unspecified area hospital, I got on the first plane here. By the way, Rhodey sends his love and wishes that he could be here too, but there was no way he could leave the base. He says the armor is the just about the coolest thing he’s ever seen and that he wouldn’t mind a suit of his own. Tony, Tony! Are you listening?”

“What? Yes, of course I am Pep!” Tony protested. It was even mostly true.

Pepper narrowed her eyes before continuing, “Anyways, you need to be camera ready because while you were catching up on your beauty sleep in that hospital bed, I was making arrangements for a press conference. You’re due at Stark Industries’ headquarters in an hour. Stop making that face at me, your father won’t be there and you have to do this. The best way to control a story is to get out in front of it. You need to set the record straight before speculation runs rampant.”

Tony looked at her in awe, “How did I ever survive without you?”

“I don’t know, but you’ve clearly dealt with my absence by getting it into your head that it would be a good idea to put on a suit of metal and fight crime. It’s a miracle you’re still in one piece,” Pepper said dryly, her eyes full of mischief.

Tony grinned back at her, “Let’s face it, this is definitely not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.” He paused before continuing more softly and sincerely, “Thanks Pep, really. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Tony. Although god knows why. Now come on, I only have one hour to clean you up and that’s barely enough time to make you look presentable.”

Tony squawked and protested, loudly defending his rugged good looks, but eventually allowed Pepper to push him into the shower.

\-------

Tony was standing in front of a room full of press and he had no idea what he was going to say. Crap. He probably should have thought about it before actually coming up to the podium. Come to think of it, he probably should have discussed it with Pepper. Was Tony supposed to actual admit that he was the person inside the armor? That he was the person that the world had alternately spent idolizing and fearing for the past four months? Shit, this was why Tony had always meant to keep his identity a secret. No good could come of the world associating profligate playboy Tony Stark with Iron Man.

Tony sent a panicked glance to Pepper, who was standing in the back of the room. Pepper merely gave him a sweet, reassuring smile. What did that mean? What explanation was Tony supposed to give that would make sense? The room was deadly quiet. Fuck. This was so awkward. He had to say something. “There’s been… speculation that I was involved in the events at the warehouse fire earlier today,” Tony began.

A pretty blond reporter in the front piped up, “Mr. Stark, do you honestly expect us to believe that that isn’t you in those photos?”

“It’s one thing to question what or who exactly is in those photos, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations and insinuate that I’m a... superhero,” Tony replied, hedging around the question.

“I never said you were a superhero,” the blonde hastened to reply.

“You didn’t? Well good, because that would be outlandish and uh, fantastic.” Tony scrambled for his next words, “I’m just not the hero type. Clearly. Not with this laundry list of character defects and all the mistakes that I’ve made, largely publicly.” Tony paused. “The truth, the truth is-” and this was it, the moment Tony denied that he was Iron Man and gave some sort of plausible cover story to explain what had happened.

And Tony… couldn’t do it. Tony felt his mouth stretch into a wicked grin, “The truth is - I am Iron Man.” The room erupted with noise and light as the reporters jumped to their feet, yelling questions, and camera flashes went off indiscriminately.

\-------

Tony threw himself into the back seat of the hired town car, twirling the business card through his fingers. _Phil Coulson,_ it read, _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division_.

The unassuming man had approached Tony as he was being ushered out of the press conference by Pepper. “Mr. Stark, do you think that you’re the only superhero in the world?” he had asked.

Naturally, Tony’s response had been, “Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Phil Coulson. I’m with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

Wow. “That’s quite a mouthful,” Tony had observed.

 _Agent_ Coulson had smiled, “I know. We’re working on it. You should get in touch with us, the sooner the better.” He had then mysteriously disappeared into the crowd, leaving Tony with his business card and a lot of questions.

Tony shook his head. Tomorrow. He would deal with it tomorrow. He sighed, he seemed to be thinking that a lot these days. One day at a time, he guessed. Tony closed his eyes and let his head thunk back against the seat. He just wanted _this_ day to be over already.

After the press conference, Pepper had stuck him in a town car that had instructions to take him to a hotel in LA where, at Tony’s insistence, there was a room waiting for him. It’s not that he was hiding from Steve per se (before the press conference, Pepper had smirked and asked, “Where exactly is your handsome bodyguard, Tony?” Tony had ignored her) - it’s that he was hiding from everyone, really. The location of his house wasn’t a secret and people, maybe even press, would try to find him there. And Tony didn’t want to deal with all of that right now. He had had a really trying past 48 hours and he just needed some god damn peace and quiet. So Pepper was on a flight back to MA (leaving Tony with a kiss on the cheek after extracting a promise that he would call her the minute he needed her help with _anything_ ) and Tony was headed to a hotel.

Tony shifted, unable to doze in the car with the hundreds of thoughts and plans running endlessly through his mind. He finally gave up and opened his eyes, reaching for the thing he had been avoiding looking at for hours: his Stark Phone. Tony glanced down at the screen and winced. 118 missed calls, 57 unopened texts, and thousands of unread emails. The missed calls were primarily from Howard, Obie (Tony could guess exactly what they wanted from him, and it wasn’t to make sure he was okay) and…Steve.

Tony grimaced. Steve had been calling Tony about once every half hour since the first picture of him as Iron Man had appeared on the news. And he had left a lot of voicemails. Shit. Tony opened one of the voicemails at random and heard Steve’s panicked, worried voice come through the speaker, “Tony, are you-” Tony ended the call and tossed his phone away. Shit, shit. He had no idea what he was going to say to Steve.

His phone started buzzing where it lay on the seat and Tony glanced at it again. It was text from one of his Caltech professors? Asking a question about how exactly the repulsors on the Iron Man suit worked? Tony stared at his phone in disbelief. Okay. Seriously, he didn’t have the patience to handle the “concerns” of all of these people right now. “JARVIS, disconnect this phone number and get me a new one. Send - send the new number to the hospital where Isaac is immediately and to everyone else important (Steve, Pepper, Rhodey…) tomorrow morning.” One night, he was giving himself one night of silence. Finally, his phone lay quiet next to him and Tony closed his eyes, exhausted.

Before he knew it, he was stumbling out of the car, getting his room key and heading up to his hotel room. Tony opened the door and walked into the room. Standing in the middle of the room, hands folded behind his back, was Steve. Tony felt a flood of complicated emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Fervent relief that Steve was here at all and Tony could see, talk to and touch him. Fear that Steve was just here to yell at Tony. And mostly, an overwhelming desire to collapse in Steve’s arms and never let go. Tony was pretty stressed and he wanted Steve in whatever way he could get him.

They stared at each other, the silence building between them until Tony thought he could feel it. Steve broke first. “Tony,” he gritted out, his voice tense and strained. Okay so Steve might be furious, which was interesting, but not entirely unexpected. Tony just wasn’t sure what exactly Steve was pissed about. The kiss, Tony disappearing and ending up in the hospital, or Tony being Iron Man. And really, what rule was there that Steve could only be mad about one thing? Why should he limit himself when there was clearly such a plethora of things to yell at Tony about?

“Steve, I can explain?” Tony tried, tentatively. He figured that covered most of his bases. Now, he just needed a viable explanation.

Steve turned away from him and ran a shaky hand over his face before meeting Tony’s gaze again. “You’re okay,” he finally said roughly, taking a step closer to Tony, “Are you okay?”

Tony took a step closer to Steve reassuring, “Yeah, Steve. I’m okay. I promise.” Tony reached out to gently touch the back of Steve’s hand and Steve acted as if he had been electrocuted, his entire arm jerking in some aborted gesture. The desire to draw Tony closer maybe? That was probably just wishful thinking on Tony’s part.

Silence descended again as Steve just stared at Tony, running his eyes over him as if double and triple checking that Tony was safe and uninjured. Unable to stand the quiet, Tony finally asked, “How did you know I was here?”

“Pepper,” Steve answered shortly, still staring intensely at Tony. His gaze almost a physical presence. Of course it was Pepper, the traitor.

Tony shivered slightly, “Steve, talk to me. Or I’m just going to start speaking, and I probably won’t stop until-”

Steve cut him off, “You disappeared. And then you were all over the news, in the Iron Man suit. Then everyone was saying you were in the hospital, but no one knew which one or what your condition was - if you were even alive. And finally, there was that damn press conference.” Steve clenched his jaw and looked away, clearly too frustrated to continue speaking.

And Tony got angry right back, “I thought you, of all people, would understand why I decided to be Iron Man in the first place and why I chose to come clean about it today. How can you be angry at me for it?”

“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” Steve practically shouted. Okay, so maybe Tony had missed something. “God Tony, I was forced to watch the entire story play out on the TV while going out of my mind, terrified because I had no idea what was actually happening. You didn’t call me _once_ and JARVIS wouldn’t tell me anything. I had no way to find you and no way to do my damn job. I couldn’t make sure you were okay.” Steve finished his rant at practically a whisper, looking distraught. Oh no, this wasn’t good.

Tony deflated. “Steve, in case you didn’t notice, I’m Iron Man. I don’t exactly need a bodyguard,” Tony remarked, trying to joke a little and calm Steve down a little. It was clearly not the right tactic to take.

Steve snorted and gave Tony a look full of skeptical disbelief. “Really,” he said flatly, “You think that just because you revealed that you’re Iron Man, people are going to think twice about targeting you? If anything, you just gained a whole slew of new enemies.” Steve laughed bitterly, the sound loud and ugly in the quiet of the room, “But okay, if you don’t think you need a bodyguard, I’ll just leave. You obviously don’t need me here. After all, you didn’t think twice about me today.” Steve shook his head at Tony, expression dejected and rueful, and turned to leave.

Tony’s breath caught and he reached out to grip Steve’s arm. He couldn’t let Steve go, he _needed_ Steve - he always needed Steve. Steve had to know. “Maybe I don’t need you as a bodyguard, but I do need you as my friend,” Tony said quietly.

Steve looked at him intently, eyes searching Tony’s expression - for what, he wasn’t sure. “Is that all I am to you, Tony? Your friend?” Steve finally asked.

Okay. Tony was officially fed up. How could Steve not know? He scoffed, “Don’t be an idiot,” and throwing caution to the wind, stepped right into Steve’s space and rose on his toes to bring their mouths together in a fierce kiss. And it was just as good as before, devastatingly good. Clearly their first kiss hadn’t been a fluke. Tony mentally shrugged. Whatever, he had almost died today. He deserved one more taste before Steve pushed him away again.

Except... Steve wasn’t pushing him away. The kiss that had begun as an angry, frustrated clash of lips and teeth - tongues battling more than anything - quickly became gentle, amazingly slow and syrupy good, but no less passionate. Tony’s hands were fisted in Steve’s hair and Steve’s were grasping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. Desire surged through Tony and he moaned against Steve’s lips, desperate for more.

Steve pulled his mouth away, breathing heavily. _Shit_ , thought Tony looking at Steve warily, _there’s probably going to be more yelling now_. But Steve just stared at Tony, his eyes hazy with passion and hands still gripping Tony, keeping him close. Then Steve nodded, seemingly coming to some sort of decision. Tony held his breath, waiting, and Steve proceeded to shock the hell out of him by ducking his head to bring their lips together again in a deep, perfect kiss. A kiss that this time around, Steve was fully participating in, controlling even. It was _awesome_.

Kissing Steve calmed the chaotic storm of Tony’s mind, quieting and focusing it, while igniting an altogether different kind of tempest in his body. And okay, apparently they weren’t going to talk. Tony could do that, stay silent. Talking would probably just make Steve come to his senses and stop kissing him, which wasn't something that Tony could allow to happen. Because he had to have this, he had to have Steve, even if it was just once, just for tonight, in a moment born from the series of tense, emotionally-charged events of the past few days.

They kissed and kissed, tongues twining together and teeth scraping across lips. Tony felt like he was high (it was definitely the best high he had ever had). He never wanted to stop kissing Steve. He dazedly wondered if constantly being attached to Steve at the lips would hinder his daily life.

Pretty soon, kissing wasn’t enough. Tony was thoroughly lacking in self-discipline and he wanted more. So he surged forward, finally doing what he had been fantasizing about for weeks, and pressed his entire body up against the solid, strong, perfect one in front of him. Tony shifted his hips, bringing their hard erections into contact. It felt amazing, even through layers of clothing, and Steve gasped against Tony’s mouth, a small surprised sound. Tony took ruthless advantage of the moment to deepen the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Steve’s mouth, greedy for more.

Tony rolled his hips, hands moving and fingers slipping underneath Steve’s shirt to skim across fever-warm smooth skin. Skin that Tony wanted to be intimately acquainted with. Tony tore his mouth away from Steve’s to place small, biting kisses along the strong column of Steve’s throat as Steve panted, head tipped back and eyes closed. “Please, can I, I need-” Tony gasped, shocked at how far gone he sounded, his voice hoarse with need. They were the first words that either of them had spoken since their lips had met and thankfully, they seemed to do the trick.

Steve opened his eyes to gaze at Tony and then licking his lips, stepped back and stripped out of his shirt. Steve was gorgeous. It was like he was carved out of marble, or photoshopped. The low light of the hotel room played across his body, outlining muscles that Tony wanted to trace with tongue. The thought was enough to break Tony out of his trance and he hurriedly removed his own shirt, the arc reactor bathing the room in a soft blue light. And then Steve was pulling Tony back into his arms, skin meeting skin as his mouth claimed Tony’s once more.

Steve’s hands seemed to be everywhere, running across the bare expanse of Tony’s back and chest as his mouth devoured Tony’s. Steve even traced the edge of the arc reactor (scars and all) reverently, gently - in an almost too intimate motion that made Tony shiver. Steve’s fingers eventually brushed over one of Tony’s nipples, seemingly accidentally, and Tony’s back bowed in pleasure. Steve stopped kissing him to observe Tony’s expression, which had to be all kinds of blissed out, and he moved his hand back to pinch Tony’s nipple. Tony moaned - a wordless plea for more - and it spurred Steve into action, his lips descending on Tony’s neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a mark as he teased and rolled Tony’s nipples, leaving Tony a shuddering mess of desire and need. Tony had never felt better.

Then Steve’s talented hands slipped down to squeeze Tony’s ass and Tony gasped, unable to help himself from punching his hips forward. And then their hips were grinding together in earnest, the pressure sending sparks of pure sensation throughout Tony’s body. Tony needed to be closer, and it felt natural to hitch a leg up over Steve’s hip as their bodies moved together. Steve caught on quickly, gripping Tony’s thigh to keep him close as they kissed and Tony thought, _screw it,_ and jumped, wrapping both of his legs around Steve.

Steve, of course, caught and held him steady, and they kissed again, Tony using his momentary height advantage to gain a deep slide into Steve’s mouth. Then Steve took one, two, three steps backwards and went sprawling on the bed, Tony landing in his lap. Tony felt like he was on fire, the friction of their bodies making his mind spin out of control and he wondered just how incendiary it would be if the rest of their clothes came off. Naturally, Tony couldn’t just let a thought like that get away.

Between kisses, Tony slipped his hand down to finger the button of Steve’s jeans. Steve pulled away to look at him, eyes dark, intense, and as desperate as Tony himself felt. Tony bit his lip before whispering, “Yeah?” Steve nodded jerkily and Tony quickly undid the button and unzipped. Steve helpfully lifted his hips allowing Tony to pull down the jeans to Steve’s upper thighs, revealing blue boxer briefs, which Tony wasted no time in tugging off of Steve’s hips as well.

Tony greedily took in Steve’s _impressive_ flushed and straining erection before wrapping his hand around it, causing Steve to gasp loudly and thrust his hips up. Tony barely got a stroke in before Steve was knocking his hand away. Tony pouted for a moment before he felt Steve’s hand on the button of his own pants. And the next thing Tony knew, they were both naked and his own achingly hard cock was being fisted by Steve - the pleasure almost unbearable. Steve removed his hand to grab Tony’s head and pull him into another kiss and Tony rolled his hips again, grinding their naked cocks together, the sensation causing Tony to see stars.

After minutes, hours or years (Tony had lost all sense of time, his mind solely focused on the feverish, slick glide of their bodies together) Tony slid his hand down between their bodies to grip both of their cocks in his hand. Tony was desperate for relief, for release.

Steve’s spine arched as he let out another surprised moan, eyes fluttering closed again as if he couldn’t believe how good it felt. _Tony_ couldn’t believe how fantastic it felt to finally have Steve naked, desperate and wanting underneath him. Tony licked across Steve’s Adam’s apple before capturing Steve’s mouth again, hungry and eager.

That seemed to jolt Steve out of his daze, his eyes snapped opened and he gave Tony a look of such blazing lust that Tony almost went off there and then. Then Steve surprised him by reaching down to replace Tony’s hand with his own larger one, jacking their erections slowly and oh so good. It was Tony’s turn to close his eyes in pleasure, letting Steve take over, his fist sliding over their slick cocks in perfect strokes as Tony rolled his hips.

The friction was incredible and Tony could feel his orgasm building inside of him. His heart was pounding and his breath was coming in harsh gasps. It was so close that Tony could almost feel it, and he knew it was going to be fucking spectacular. And then Steve bit down hard on the curve of Tony’s neck where it met his shoulder and that was it, he was coming, his climax roaring through him and blurring his vision as he spurted, come landing mostly on Steve’s chest. Tony had always enjoyed an edge of pain with his pleasure.

Tony couldn’t catch his breath and he collapsed limply on top of Steve, who was still hard and aching underneath him. Tony just needed… a minute to recover from the best orgasm of his life and then he could help. But Steve clearly had everything figured out because suddenly the room was spinning and Tony found himself lying on his back on the bed, Steve kneeling over him as he stared down at Tony, gaze hot and triumphant.

Steve ran a hand through the come on his stomach ( _T_ _ony’s_ come) and gave it a thoughtful look before he took the same hand and began to stroke his own erection, eyes locking once more on Tony sprawled beneath him, used and pliant. It was quite the sight and Tony smiled wickedly as he stretched languidly, hands coming up to brush across his nipples as licked his lips and stared up at Steve. Steve groaned, his eyes flicking across Tony’s body as the hand on his cock sped up. And then Tony reached down to lightly graze his spent cock, the contact sending waves of almost-too-much pleasure through him, and Steve inhaled sharply, shut his eyes and came, hot ropes of come landing on Tony’s chest.

Steve collapsed next to Tony on the bed, eyes still closed and chest heaving. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, gaze unerringly finding Tony’s. Steve looked completely ravished and Tony felt a momentary flash of pride that he had been the one to make Steve look like that. And wanting to tease Steve a little more, he swirled his fingers through the come on his chest before bringing them up to his mouth to taste. Steve groaned again, as though physically pained, before rolling away and getting out of bed on vaguely unsteady legs.

Tony watched him apprehensively, but Steve just went into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth to gently wipe down Tony’s stomach and his own before crawling back into bed and pulling the sheets up and over them.

Steve lay facing him and his eyes started to slide closed before fluttering open again, as if he were fighting sleep. Tony shifted uncomfortably next to him, his post-orgasm haze quickly fading and being replaced by panic. Shit, had they actually just had sex? What was going to happen now? Steve’s eyes opened and he gazed at Tony with half-lidded eyes and a small smile. He reached out and ran a hand down Tony’s side, as if to settle him, murmuring, “In the morning,” before slipping into sleep, his hand a warm weight on Tony’s chest.

Tony lay awake, terrified of what exactly was going to happen in the morning. His thoughts raced as he ran through possible conversations and scenarios. None of them seemed good. What seemed like hours later, Tony was still awake and freaking out. Eventually, he maneuvered around Steve’s arm and slid out of bed to quietly dress himself, not wanting to wake Steve up. Then, he grabbed the pad of hotel paper and scrawled the note he had been revising in his head for the past hour, leaving it on the desk along with a second slip of paper.

He stole one last glance at Steve, sleeping peacefully on his front in the middle of the bed, sheets around his waist. Tony ran his gaze along the strong lines of Steve’s bare back before staring for long minutes at Steve’s face, knowing that this might be his last time to look his fill. Then, Steve shifted minutely in the bed, prodding Tony into action. He turned away and forcing himself to resist the temptation to linger, Tony quietly opened the door and slipped out, leaving Steve alone in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote the sex scene for this chapter and it ended up being more… explicit than I had anticipated. Whoops? Anyways, if explicit sexual content isn’t your thing, it’s pretty easy to skip and it shouldn’t detract from the story as a whole. Also, since this is the first fic I’ve ever written, I’m still a little confused about how ratings work. I think I’m going to keep the work rated Mature, but if you have strong feelings/opinions on me changing it to Explicit, I’m happy to do so! The work also now comes with the tag “Eventual Explicit Sexual Content” so I’m hoping that’s good enough to warn people?
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! You guys give me life <3
> 
> And finally, I just wanted to assure anyone that’s worried that this story will definitely have a happy, fluffy ending! Unresolved/unhappy endings are totally not my thing.


	12. Separation is Hard on the Heart (Tony and Steve pine from opposite coasts)

**Steve**

Steve woke up slowly, with the growing awareness that something wasn’t right. Still mostly asleep, Steve rolled, reaching for something… (someone?) but his fingers just encountered the cool, smooth expanse of sheets. And as Steve woke up fully, memories of the night before came flooding back. The room dark and still until Tony - Tony, naked and beautiful and _his_.

Steve’s eyes flew open and he sat up in the bed - the bed that he was in alone. He looked around the room and saw no trace of Tony. And Steve immediately knew that Tony wasn’t just being quiet in the bathroom, or downstairs getting breakfast and coffee. No. Steve knew that Tony was gone - that he had left with no intention of coming back. The realization washed over him like a wave of icy water. Steve shivered and closed his eyes. “Fuck,” the single word seemed to echo in the quiet room. If ever there was an acceptable time for cursing, this was probably it. _And Tony isn’t even here to make fun of me for it_ , Steve thought despondently.

_When did everything get so complicated?_ Steve wondered. But he knew, of course he knew. It had started with a kiss. _No, that wasn’t quite right_. Everything had been complicated from the moment he and Tony had met and clashed spectacularly, sparks flying between them even back then. The kiss… the kiss had just made things crystal clear to Steve while somehow managing to confuse matters even further.

Tony had kissed him and Steve had been shocked, completely blindsided by the simple press of mouths that had quickly turned scorching, lips parting easily and tongues meeting as if they had kissed passionately, hungrily, hundreds of times before.

Steve hadn’t realized that kissing Tony was something he could do until Tony had done it. Growing up, feeling that way about other men simply… wasn’t an option, no matter what Steve might have wanted. And objectively, Steve knew that things were different now, that in this century, men could be with men and women could be with women and it was fine. But it just wasn’t habit for _Steve_ to look at or think about other men. So Steve hadn’t known how much he wanted it - how much he wanted Tony - until Tony had kissed him and blown the hinges off of that long closed door inside of him. It took a kiss to make Steve realize just how much beyond simple friendship his feelings for Tony went.

But in the same moment that Steve had understood that he wanted Tony as something _more_ (as his lover? as his boyfriend?), he had also known that he and Tony couldn’t happen. The reasons had flooded his mind, piling up and refusing to be ignored. He was six years older than Tony. He was Tony’s bodyguard, somehow both his employee and in a position of authority over him. And obviously, there was the not insignificant fact that he was lying to Tony about basically everything and that one day soon, he would leave Tony in order to take up the mantle of Captain America again.

And finally, he had thought that there was a good chance that this was all just a whim on Tony’s part. That Tony was turning to Steve as an easy source of comfort or as a distraction. Steve knew Tony’s romantic history, so he knew that Tony wasn’t interested in commitment. Which was a problem, because if they came together, it wouldn’t be a forgettable one night stand to Steve. What he felt for Tony went far beyond “casual.” Steve would end up wanting everything from Tony if he allowed himself to have a taste. And that gave Tony the power to hurt him, which was a fairly terrifying prospect for a guy whose temporary death (via crash landing in an ocean) had put an end to his first actual relationship before it could really begin.

So Steve had stopped the kiss, pushed Tony away, and told him that they couldn’t. Not that he didn’t want to, but that they couldn’t. But before Steve could even begin to try to explain, Tony had fled, leaving Steve to sort through the aftermath on his own. And now, it had happened again. It was beginning to be a pattern - Tony kissing him and then running as far and fast as he could in the other direction. Steve rubbed a shaky hand over his face. God, he was going to developing a complex.

But of course everything was worse this time around because of The Realization.

Steve had been unable to sleep the night after the kiss, trying to figure out what exactly he was going to tell Tony next the day. But the next day had dawned and Tony had been conspicuously absent right up until the moment blurry pictures of him in the Iron Man armor outside a large structure fire had appeared, along with reports that Iron Man had been taken to a local hospital, his condition unknown. Steve had stood paralyzed in front of the TV, feeling panicked and helpless and loathing it. Because this wasn’t something that Steve could fight against and win.

All he could think was, _how could it be happening again?_ Was he really going to lose everyone that mattered to him for a second time? First Isaac and now Tony. If Tony wasn’t okay, well - Steve didn’t think that was something he would be able to move past. The thought of losing Tony had crippled him and Steve hadn’t been able to breathe, hadn’t been able to function, until Tony had appeared on TV again, this time holding a press conference at Stark Industries.

He had looked whole and healthy, if a little tired and pale, and wore his tailored suit like a second skin, like another set of armor. Then, after minutes of skirting around the issue, Tony had finally grinned and proudly pronounced, “I am Iron Man.” Steve had felt his heart momentarily stop and then start pounding again. His breath had caught, his palms had started to sweat. It was suddenly, glaringly obvious. He was in love with Tony.

Because of course, it took Tony nearly dying and then revealing his secret identity as a superhero to make Steve realize that he was in love with him. Steve had taken a moment to consider the possibility that he might be a bit dense when it came to feelings. Of course Tony was Iron Man (and how had Steve not known, not suspected, even once?). Iron Man, who was Steve’s only other real friend, his other anchor. It was always Tony and it would always be Tony for him.

Then had come the call from Pepper, telling him where Tony would be. Seeing Tony and the blinding relief that Steve could see and touch him and make sure he was okay. Being in love with Tony but still eminently capable of being upset, angry. Trying to figure out if Tony felt even a fraction of what Steve felt for him.

Then instead of talking, like they should have been doing, Tony had kissed him again in a frustrated challenge. And Steve had just… let himself have it, let himself take what Tony was offering. Steve had finally kissed Tony the way he had been dying to ever since he had broken their first kiss. What had followed was probably one of the more selfish and irresponsible things he had ever done. But it had also been perfect and so hot that Steve didn’t understand how people ever found the willpower to leave the bedroom, if all sex was like that.

Images from last night flashed across his eyes - Tony stripping off his shirt, Tony naked and writhing in his arms, Tony with his back arched as he came. Suddenly, Steve couldn’t stay in the bed for a minute longer. He scrambled out from under the sheets less than gracefully, stumbling a bit as a he fumbled for his clothing. And right after Steve had pulled on his shirt, his gaze was snagged by two pieces of paper lying in the middle of the otherwise empty desk. Steve’s eyes widened and he all but lunged for the note.

_I’m sorry… for everything_ , was written in Tony’s messy, blocky script. And then, _If you ever need me_ , followed by a new phone number. The second piece of paper was a check. With a lot of zeros. Much more money than he had made since his last paycheck - clearly a severance check with enough money to make Steve comfortable for a while.

Steve felt a hot flash of anger completely obliterate all his thoughts (a _check_ ? Really Tony?) before it was eventually replaced with a fluttering sensation that Steve quickly identified as… hope. Because, oddly enough, that (along with an inexplicable fondness - Steve was probably going a little crazy) was what the note made him feel. The note (and accompanying check) was just such a _Tony_ way to show that in spite of appearances otherwise, he still cared.

_Tony you absolute idiot,_ Steve thought exasperatedly, shaking his head.

Steve would bet that Tony had over thought the entire thing (with incomplete information) and had succeeding in convincing himself that they were better off apart, that it was safer for everyone. And having made the decision, he would have stubbornly stuck to his guns and gone through with it without even bothering to talk to Steve. Which was clearly idiotic, but so very Tony - cutting his loses and leaving before he thought someone might get hurt. Thus the note, apologizing (something that Tony barely ever did) and leaving an olive branch (the phone number). And really, only Tony would think that is was a good idea to let the person he had just slept with wake up to a check instead of him.

Steve smoothed out the note (he had sort of crumpled it in a clenched fist in his initial bout of blind rage), running his fingers over the script before pocketing it along with the check. He knew what he was going to do.

\-------

Steve stood in the security line at LAX, boarding pass in hand. He scanned the area, eyes finally lighting on a nearby security camera. He stared at it (knowing there was a good chance Tony would eventually see the footage) before pulling out his phone and sending a simple text to Tony’s new number: _I’m coming back._ Steve then looked up from his phone to make eye contact with the security camera again and smiled.

Steve had two things he had to do, but then he was coming back - for Tony. Steve would probably always come back for Tony. And when he got back, he and Tony were going to sit down and finally have a real conversation. Steve was going to tell him… everything. Captain America. That he loved him. Steve was going to lay it all out on the table and then he was going to do his damn best to prove to Tony that they were stronger, better, together than they were apart. Steve wasn’t giving Tony up without one hell of a fight.

\-------

Steve landed in New York and immediately made his way to Brooklyn. Hands in pockets and body braced against the chilly January wind, he wandered through his old neighborhood, making note of what had changed (almost everything) and what was still the same (almost nothing). Steve didn’t know if it was more or less painful, not being able to see his past in the streets and buildings in front of him. The world had well and truly moved on without him.

Steve also visited his mom’s grave, laying down flowers and telling her about everything that had happened since the last time he had been home. It felt good. Luckily, he had had the chance to mourn and make his peace with Sarah Rogers’ death years before his final mission as Captain America. Visiting her now ignited a warm glow in his chest, chasing away some of the cold that he had been constantly feeling since landing in New York.

Steve stayed in New York for a few days. He spent a lot of time drawing, immortalizing his most important memories with pencil and paper. Steve also did a lot of running through Central Park. He didn’t know exactly what he was running from (his memories, his fears?), just that he needed to do it. He ran until the day he was ready to run towards something (a future, Tony). Then he stopped mid-jog, icy air piercing his lungs with every harsh inhale, and went back to his hotel room to pack his bags and get on a train headed south. Steve had one more stop to make, one last memory to lay to rest before he could get on a plane and go back to California, back to Tony, back home.

\-------

Steve stood in front of the grave at Arlington National Cemetery, the wintery chill seeping through his layers of clothing and bringing with it memories of different freezing day in the mountains (a train, the sickening snap of a railing). The sky was gray and held the promise of snow. _James Buchanan Barnes_ , the headstone read. Steve stood there silently for minutes, hours, trying to figure out what to say. Eventually, when he couldn’t hold it back any longer, “I’m sorry,” burst out of him in a ragged whisper.

Steve cleared his throat before continuing in a stronger voice, “I know you would hate that I said that. You would tell me that it was your choice to follow me-” Steve’s voice faltered before continuing, “-’til end of the line. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wish I could go back and stop you from doing it.” Steve gave the headstone a small smile, “Although stopping you from coming with me would no doubt have required knockin’ you out, tying you up, and forcibly sticking you on a ship back to America. And even then, you probably would have found a way to come back for me. That’s just what we did for each other.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I guess I wish that you had gotten to live your life - even though I wouldn’t have been there to see it. And since you’re not here to yell at me for it, I can say I’m sorry.” Steve fell silent again, attempting to put what he was feeling into words. “When I woke up, I was so lost and - uninterested in being alive in this century. Because back then, in the 30’s, even when I had nothing else, I had you. You were my family for so long Buck, that it felt - wrong to be okay without you. But that’s just another thing you would hate. You would probably have punched me and told me to get off my ass and stop moping. And I’m working on it, I promise.”

Steve felt himself start to smile, “I met someone. He’s - well, he’s a he first of all. His name is Tony. Tony Stark actually, Isaac’s grandson, if you can believe it. He’s brilliant, gorgeous, strong, and a much better person than he thinks he is. He also rarely stops talking, is just as stubborn as I am, has an enormous ego, and likes to make fun me.” Steve gave a small chuckle, “You would like him a lot, I think. He makes me laugh. He makes things better. Now I just have to convince him to... want me back.”

Steve could almost hear what Bucky’s exasperated reply to that would be - _Then what are you doing standing here blabbering at me, Rogers? Go knock some sense into him._ “I miss you Buck, I’ll probably always miss you. But yeah, I’m gonna be okay, I swear.” Steve placed the small wreath he had been holding in clenched fists at the base of the grave before turning sharply and walking out of the cemetery. He had a promise to keep after all.

\-------

It wasn’t anything so satisfying as complete closure. Steve wasn’t miraculously alright, it didn’t work that way. He was getting there, but it would still take more time to completely heal all of his wounds. But the trip had been… cathartic, Steve supposed. It had allowed him to finally finish sanding off the rough edges of his memories so that he could handle them without drawing blood.

Steve had known that it was important for him to truly say goodbye to his old life. To make some sort of peace with what had happened and all things and people he had lost. His memories would always be a part of him, but he didn’t have to be bogged down or defeated by his past. And maybe now he could finally move on, fully embrace a new life. Steve could be Captain America again and just possibly, he could find a way to be happy. Steve stared out the airplane’s window as Washington, DC became smaller and smaller beneath him and smiled. He was going back.

* * *

**Tony**

Tony stumbled out of one hotel and into another, studiously avoiding thinking about who he had left lying alone in bed. He paid for another room before proceeding to crash into bed completely clothed. Mercifully, his body and mind were both beyond exhausted from a 36 hours filled with a near death experience, a harrowing press conference, some excellent and athletic sex, and unfortunately, very little sleep. So within minutes, Tony drifted into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Sixteen hours later (which might be a new record for him), Tony woke up groggy and disoriented as he always was whenever he let himself sleep that long. He peered around at his surroundings uncomprehendingly. This wasn’t his bedroom. And then Tony remembered. He remembered _everything_. Tony sat bolt upright in bed, ran an agitated hand through his hair, before blowing out a breath and exclaiming, “Well, fuck.”

Tony groaned and flopped back onto the bed, covering his face with a pillow and giving into the urge to scream into it, just a little. A manly scream, of course. Shit, he had really fucked up. Multiple times. All in classic Tony Stark style, really. Tony had made a lot mistakes in his life (and in the past two days), but he thought that leaving Steve alone in bed after sleeping with him (and leaving him a check - geez Stark, you should have just called him a whore to his face and saved yourself the thousands of dollars) might just enter into his top five mistakes of all time. And that was saying a lot since a decent number of Tony’s mistakes resulted in either dead bodies or millions of dollars being lost.

Last night, to his overstimulated, overtired, adrenaline-crashing, and teenage hormone swamped brain, leaving Steve had seemed like the right thing to do - the best option. Obviously now, in the cold, harsh light of morning (or afternoon, if he was going to be completely accurate), and after an excellent night’s sleep, Tony realized just how idiotic leaving had been. Ah, hindsight - what a bitch.

Tony had left last night because his mind had been unable to stop screaming worst-case scenarios at him. He lain awake and had no idea where he and Steve stood. What if morning came Steve told him “no” again? What if Steve was still angry that Tony had lied? Were they even still friends? Tony had been terrified of facing Steve the next morning because Steve basically held Tony’s happiness in his freakishly large hands. And as if all of those doubts weren’t bad enough, the more insidious part of his brain had then started to whisper, _even if Steve says “yes,” do you really think that he would be happy and safe with you?_

So instead of letting him enjoy his afterglow, his mind had taken Tony on an extremely fun tour of all his past screw-ups before pointing at Steve and asking, _do you really think you won’t screw that up?_ The final nail in the proverbial coffin had come with the thought, _and wouldn’t all of your enemies - both those of Tony Stark and Iron Man - be interested to know just how much you care about him? Now that’s what I call leverage._

It had all run on loop in his brain until the safest option seemed like putting as much distance as possible between them. Quite simply, Tony had freaked the fuck out. And even though he had known that it would be best to just leave without a trace (that that would send Steve the strongest message), he had been unable to stop himself from leaving the note. From leaving a tiny channel of communication open between them - an action for which he was now fervently grateful. Because at the moment, he wanted nothing more in the world than to call Steve and tell him that he was sorry, that he had made a mistake, that they could figure this out together, and that Tony… loved him.

Tony moaned again into the pillow that still lay against his face. This love business was awful. It had the magical ability to turn Tony, _Tony_ (who was an actual genius), into a complete and utter moron. No wonder Romeo and Juliet had offed themselves rather than deal with it.  

But as much as Tony desperately wanted to call Steve, he couldn’t. Because if Steve hadn’t been angry or upset with Tony before he left, he definitely would be all of those things now. Which was just fantastic. Additionally, there was a good possibility that at the moment, Steve would refuse to listen to or believe any heartfelt declarations from Tony. After all, Tony had been lying to Steve for months about Iron Man and then, to add insult to injury, he had left after basically coercing Steve into sleep with him. Tony’s credibility was a bit shot to shit right now.

No, Tony couldn’t be the one to call Steve. If Steve wanted to talk to him, he knew where to find him, how to get in touch with him. And Steve would probably call, even if it was just to yell at Tony, right? And if Steve didn’t, then the least Tony could do was give him a couple of days to cool down before calling him? Tony could wait. He could be patient. Well, he usually couldn’t, but he would try, for Steve. Tony had to try if he wanted a chance to make up… everything to Steve.

Tony eventually summoned up the willpower to remove the pillow from his face and roll out of bed to go shower. His attempt to avoid dwelling on the entire Steve situation was cut brutally short after he stripped out of his clothing and glanced at himself in the mirror. Because there, littering his body, were the physical reminders of last night. Bruises marched down the slope of his neck, ending with a particularly nice one where Steve had bitten him. Small, dark smudges adorned his hips and thighs - imprints clearly left by Steve’s fingers as he had gripped and pulled Tony closer.

Tony bit his lip, pressed a finger into one of the bruises on his thigh, and shivered; his eyes slipped closed as all the good (fantastic, mind-blowing) memories from last night played in technicolor behind his eyelids. Tony gasped, his eyes flying back open, and he had to sternly tell his body that no, he wasn’t going to jerk off to memories of previous night, not while Steve wasn’t talking to him.

One extremely boring shower later, Tony finally gave into his burning curiosity and asked his phone, “JARVIS, can you tell me where Steve is?”

“Captain Daniels’ phone - and Captain Daniels, presumably -  are currently in New York City,” JARVIS replied.

Tony dropped his towel and practically shouted, “He’s where?” Had Tony actually pissed Steve off so much that he felt compelled to put an entire country between them? Ugh, no. This was not good.

“New York City, sir,” JARVIS stated calmly before adding, “Sir also has a text message from Captain Daniels, if you would like to hear it.”

“Yes! What’s the message, J?” Tony asked, rather desperately.

“‘I’m coming back,’ the message reads.”

Tony felt a wave of fervent relief roll through him. Oh thank god. “‘I’m coming back,’” Tony murmured. “Okay, okay. I can work with that.”

\-------

The next week seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace, with none of the many, _many_ distractions Tony had surrounded himself with proving strong enough to keep him from missing Steve. Which he did. A lot. One might even call what he was doing pining.

These days, Tony hated being in his house. Every room just held memories of him and Steve. Tony couldn’t even be in his lab, which had always been his sanctuary from the rest of the world, without thinking about Steve curled up on the couch in the corner, sketching or reading as he asked Tony questions about his work. It sucked. So Tony was forced to spend most of his time outside of the house.

Tony visited Isaac, usually every day. Isaac’s condition was stable, but unchanged - Isaac still very much in a coma. Unfortunately, these visits usually just devolved into Tony talking about Steve, so they weren’t a great way to divert his thoughts from his ex-bodyguard.

Tony was also spending a decent amount of time avoiding Howard and everyone else at Stark Industries who had been sending increasingly desperate and threatening emails, voicemails, and letters regarding the Iron Man armor. After a few days of simply ignoring it all, Tony had eventually gotten fed up enough to send Howard one simple email with the text: “The only way you’re getting your hands on the armor is over my dead body.” Tony thought it was admirably succinct and to the point. Much better than the pages long rant he had written but ultimately decided not send, which Tony though was an excellent sign of his growing maturity.

After sending the email, communication from SI had tapered off. Tony knew he would eventually have to face Howard - especially if he wanted to avoid being disowned as heir to Stark Industries - but he figured he could put that off for a few weeks at least, giving him time to solidify his control over the intellectual property of the Iron Man armor. Tony really wanted to avoid putting himself in a position where Howard blackmailed him into handing over parts of or schematics for the armor.

And just who was “helping” him secure his position as Iron Man? Why his friendly neighborhood shadowy extra-governmental counterterrorism and intelligence agency, SHIELD, of course! His meeting with Nick Fury, the enigmatic (re: jackass) director of SHIELD had gone something like this:

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Do I look at the patch or the eye? Honestly, I’m a little hungover so I’m not even sure I’m not hallucinating a little.” Tony had asked. Silence (and a sort of stunned horror from Coulson) had rained. Tony had chosen to ignore it and cheerfully continued, “So, what exactly do you want from me?”

Fury had glared, the expression remarkably effective even with the missing eye. “Can it, Stark. What do we want from you? Uh-uh. It’s what do you want from me. You have become a problem; a problem I have to deal with. Now shut up and listen. You want the government, the military to back off? Well, then you need to show them that you’re at least considering listening to someone - that you’re not a completely ego-driven loose cannon. Apparently, we’re the lucky winners. And, just think how proud your grandfather would be if you joined the same organization he helped found.”

“Wait, what? Isaac -” Tony had sputtered as Fury turned to leave, apparently done with the welcome speech.

And that’s how Tony was blackmailed into accepting the most boring job on the planet: “consultant” to SHIELD. “Consultant” because he had been ruled out as a legitimate member (agent?) of SHIELD due to his “textbook narcissism,” which was actually a pretty fair assessment. “Boring” because no one actually trusted him enough to let him do anything. Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have gone to that meeting still a little drunk from the night before.

Tony had met Coulson’s pet agents, Clint Barton (codename: Hawkeye) and Natasha Romanov (codename: Black Widow), but had yet to be allowed to actually help with any of their missions. Barton seemed… nice enough, even if he did spend a worrying amount of time inside the SHIELD ventilation system. Romanov, however, was completely terrifying and remained unswayed by Tony’s ample charm, which did not bode well for their future interactions.

And the one time he had been allowed inside of SHIELD’s science division, the visit had ended with a small explosion. It had been tiny, really, and the SHIELD scientists had been barely singed. Tony didn’t know what Coulson had been so worked up over and why he had started muttering about Tony being sent to “destroy SHIELD from the inside.” It had seemed uncalled for and honestly, was a little hurtful. Tony had thought that he and Coulson were on their way to being great friends. Long story short, Tony was now banned from SHIELD labs for the foreseeable future.

So yeah, Tony’s new “job” at SHIELD also wasn’t interesting enough to distract him from Steve. Steve, who Tony was keeping virtual track of. Tony wasn’t stalking him per se, he was just having JARVIS text Tony updates whenever Steve changed locations. Tony knew it wasn’t terribly healthy, but whatever. He felt better when he knew exactly where Steve was.

Tony knew that Steve had spent the better part of the week in and around New York City, before popping up in Washington, DC. Tony hadn’t yet stooped to the low point of keeping video surveillance of Steve (apart from watching the footage of Steve at the airport, making eye contact with the security camera and smiling as he sent his text to Tony - that had put Tony in a good mood for almost six hours), trying to give Steve a smidgen of privacy in which to sort through whatever he needed to sort through. And people said that Tony had no boundaries.

But every day that Steve was somewhere else instead of with Tony (where he belonged, the less-evolved, belligerent part of his brain insisted), it became harder and harder to restrain himself from doing something stupid - like putting on the Iron Man armor and flying to wherever Steve was and kidnapping him.

But then, right as he was walking into a mandatory SHIELD meeting (“mandatory means mandatory, even for you Stark,” Fury had yelled at him yesterday), an alert popped up on his phone. Steve was finally back in LA. Oh god.

\-------

“We want Nomad,” Fury stated.

Tony snorted and twirled in his chair, carefully considering his words before thinking, _screw it_ , and simply answering, “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘No?’” snapped Fury.

Tony rolled his eyes, “What I mean is no, I’m not going to help you trick, persuade or cajole him into joining your merry band of heroes.”

Coulson interjected, “Our. That should have been ‘our merry band of heroes.’”

Tony swiveled to face Coulson and raised a sardonic brow in his direction, “But Coulson! I’m just a consultant. So there's not really an ‘our’ is there?” Yeah, Tony definitely still wasn’t over the whole “only good enough to be a consultant” thing. Although, he mused, this conversation might be kind of proving their point on that front.

“Listen Stark, we’re going to approach him with or without you. So get over whatever bullshits going through your head, do your damn job, and help us,” Fury barked.

“Maybe if you say pretty please,” Tony said, giving Fury his sweetest smile.

Fury growled - actually growled - before turning on his heel and leaving the room, “Coulson, Romanov, Barton, see if one you can talk some sense into him.”

Tony grinned and spread his hands on the table in front of him, “Well, who’s next?”

Natasha leaned forward in her chair, gazing intently at Tony, before asking, “Why?” Which okay, kind of threw Tony for a loop because it was pretty rare for anyone at SHIELD to bother to ask him something rather than just demand he comply with orders.

Tony felt most of his bravado slip away, “Okay, look. Even if I wanted to sell him on your super-secret boy band - which I don’t, I think that if he wanted to be doing this as something other than a vigilante he would have found a way - I can’t. He - well, he isn’t speaking with me right now; I haven’t been in contact with him in over a week.”

Because Nomad hadn’t showed his face in LA since Tony’s big Iron Man reveal. And he hadn’t been answering Tony’s calls. Which hurt, kind of a lot. It had basically confirmed Tony’s worst fear - that people liked, even loved Iron Man, right up until they found out he was Tony Stark. Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no. Hell, even SHIELD agreed with that assessment, and they had legitimate ex-assassins working for them. “Consultant” indeed.

Coulson smiled sharply, “Well, we have a plan to get him exactly where we want him tonight.”

Well, fuck. Clearly SHIELD wasn’t going to drop this. Tony sighed. “Fine, I’ll come with you. But I am not helping in any way. I’m just there to make sure none of you do something moronic like try to force his hand, or hurt him.” Tony glared around the table, “Because I think we all agree that doing something like that would be unbearably stupid and would probably result in a well-deserved repulsor blast to the chest, right?”

\-------

It was dark, the street lights in this part of town tending to either be dead or shot out, all the better to facilitate the more unsavory aspects of business that happened in this neighborhood. SHIELD had been right. The falsified reports of a gruesome double murder with the perpetrator still at large in the area had been enough to draw Nomad to the purported scene of the crime. Iron Man landed in front of him as SHIELD agents materialized out of the dark.

“Iron Man,” Nomad greeted, “Who are your friends?”

“Well, they’re not really my friends. More like occasional co-workers. They just want to talk, but you should feel free to tell them to fuck off, if you prefer. It’s no skin off my back.” Tony grinned underneath his helmet. Regardless of the circumstances, it was good to see Nomad.

Nomad’s eyes flicked around, taking in the SHIELD agents surrounding them, before settling back on Tony. He stared at Tony in silence for long minutes, his gaze heavy, before finally speaking. “Iron Man, we need to talk privately. Now,” Nomad stated, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

But before Tony could reply or do anything really, Natasha was moving with almost unnatural grace and speed. She quietly slipped up behind Nomad and ripped off his hood. Because of course SHIELD hadn’t been planning on doing this peacefully or fairly. Stupid, Tony was so stupid for not realizing sooner. And as much as he knew he shouldn’t look (Nomad wanted to keep this a secret), Tony couldn’t help eagerly fastening his gaze on Nomad’s face. Blond hair glinted in the moonlight and Tony stared in shock because the face under Nomad’s mask was the same one that he had been dreaming of for the past week. Tony’s faceplate slid up and his voice broke as he asked, “Steve?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapter (hopefully at some point next weekend) wherein Tony and Steve are finally in the same room again. Secret identities are revealed and there’s talking and some making out! As always, comments and/or kudos always appreciated :D


	13. But It’s Alright Because I Love the Way You Lie (or Tony and Steve kiss and make-up)

**Tony**

Tony blinked once, twice, three times, before lowering his faceplate - right now a much needed barrier between him and the rest of the world - and raising an arm, repulsor glowing, at Natasha - who stood silent and tense, clearly poised to make her move as soon as Tony made his. Her face was almost entirely blank as she stared at Tony, except for something that might have been an apology in her eyes. An apology that Tony was not prepared to listen to right now. “A shot to the chest is what I think we agreed on, wasn’t it?” Tony asked, quite calmly he thought.

The other SHIELD agents however, clearly didn’t agree with Tony’s assessment of the situation. Guns came out of holsters to point at him, and such was the strained silence of the night, that Tony thought he could almost hear the smooth draw of Clint’s bow as he notched and leveled an arrow right at Iron Man’s glowing chest.

But then, before a single shot could be fired, Steve was stepping close, right in front of Tony, in front of repulsor primed and ready to discharge. Steve gripped the wrist of Iron Man’s gauntlet and said, “Tony, don’t.” _Tony_ , not Iron Man, even though he was fully encased in the armor.

Tony kept his arm raised, palm still glowing. “Why not? I can. I practically promised to. They knew what would happen if they did something like this,” Tony asked, head cocked to the side and voice quiet and level - completely at odds with the dull roaring in his ears. Tony couldn’t quite process what was happening ( _Steve_ ? _Steve was here?_ ) and it was easier, better if he focused on this, something he could fight, something he could shoot.

Steve’s eyes were steady and intent on him, as if hoping that by staring hard enough, he could see through Tony’s faceplate to the expression behind. “Don’t. They’re the good guys, right?”

Tony scoffed, “I’m not so sure. Aren’t we all supposed to be the ‘good guys?’ And yet, here we stand, weapons pointed at each other. Maybe it’s not so simple.”

Steve’s eyes glittered and he got that dangerously stubborn look on his face, “You’re better than this, Tony. Lower the gauntlet, be the better man.”

Tony didn’t move, “They hurt you.”

Steve’s expression softened, “Tony, I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. They must have a reason for doing what they did. And I’ll hear them out, it’s the right thing to do.” Steve paused before continuing to speak in a louder voice, tone laced with steel and command, “But first, everyone needs to lower their weapons. Now.” And surprisingly, SHIELD listened. With a nod from Coulson, guns were holstered, arrows un-notched, and tense stances relaxed.

Tony’s gaze flicked around and slowly, he lowered his arm, his hand clenching into a fist as a he did so. Steve’s hand hadn’t loosened its grip on Tony’s wrist, so now they were standing intimately near, almost holding hands. Steve’s eyes blazed, his face lit with approval and some other deep emotion that Tony couldn’t name but that made him shiver inside the armor. Tony swallowed heavily and took a step back, freeing his arm from Steve’s grip as his mind continued to race, attempting to work through everything that had happened in the past few minutes.

Tony thought he saw hurt flicker across Steve’s face before Steve’s expression shut down, becoming stonily neutral. Steve finally tore his eyes away from Tony, gaze skimming over the various SHIELD agents before eventually settling on Coulson, “Okay, let’s talk.”

\-------

“Where is he?” Tony demanded, storming into Fury’s office. Upon their return to SHIELD headquarters, Steve had been whisked off by Agent Coulson and company. And even though they must have been talking for hours, Steve had yet to be returned to Tony. Which was completely unacceptable. Tony had to make sure Steve was alright, that SHIELD hadn’t done anything awful to him. After all, Steve needed to be in one piece in order for Tony to be able to yell at him.

“Ah, Mr. Stark. Why don’t you have a seat,” Fury remarked blandly, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk while looking unbearably smug and not at all intimidated. Damn. Tony knew he should have kept the armor on for this little confrontation.

Tony shot an angry glare at the chairs and remained standing. It was the principle of the thing, really. “I want to see Steve and I want to see him now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment, we’re still in… negotiations,” Fury replied, still infuriatingly calm.

“Leave. Him. Alone. Steve is not yours to toy with. And do you really think he’s going to listen to you after what just happened?” Tony demanded.

Fury looked at him, gaze hard and unyielding, “Yes, I do. We wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been necessary. I’m trying to save our world Stark. Sometimes the ends justify the means - you of all people should understand that.”

Tony ignored the unsubtle dig at Iron Man and narrowed his eyes, “Just what exactly aren’t you telling us, telling me?”

Fury outright laughed at that, “Oh Stark, still naively believing that you’re the only person with exceptional power on this world. And even then, do you honestly believe that we’re all alone in the universe? That there aren’t aliens, gods out there? One day soon, the threats we face are going to be bigger, badder and we’re going to have to fight to protect what’s ours. When that day comes, I’m damn well going to make sure we’re ready.”

Tony thought about it for a minute before deciding that at the moment, all of that bullshit was completely irrelevant. “Well, unlucky for you, right now I could care less about some future cosmic battle for humanity. Because right now, the only thing I care about is locked in a SHIELD interrogation room.”

Tony leaned forward, bracing his hands on Fury’s desk before speaking quietly, firmly, “If I don’t get Steve back, safe and sound, right now, I will raze your little intelligence agency into the ground. Within hours, I can have access to every dirty secret SHIELD is trying to hide and I won’t hesitate to use them to bring you to your knees. There will be nothing left but ashes when I’m done.”

Fury looked at him in silence, jaw clenched in tense anger. “What, nothing to say?” Tony taunted before continuing softly, “Good, that means you know that I can and will do it if provoked.” Tony gave Fury a wolfish smile, “It’s not too late for this to end with us as friends. And trust me, you don’t want to become my enemy. They have an unfortunate history of ending up dead.” _Screw being the better man_ , thought Tony. Because currently, the only thing keeping Tony from straying into supervillain territory was being held hostage by SHIELD and Tony was determined to get him back - by any means necessary.

After long minutes of silence, Fury finally spoke, “72 hours. Give us 72 hours and you can see him.”

Tony snorted, “Please. You can have six more hours. Maybe. If I’m feeling generous.”

“48,” Fury shot back.

Tony thought about it for a moment, willing himself to view the situation rationally even though all he really wanted to do was punch Fury in the face and go after Steve (go after what was _his_ , the more primitive part of his brain insisted). After all, he did need time to make sure he was able to follow through with his threats if needed. And Tony did have some serious investigating to do regarding the background of one Steve Daniels before their meeting. And as much as Tony hated them right now, he didn’t really believe SHIELD was going to hurt or threaten Steve - they wanted him too badly to risk alienating him any further. And even if they might have been planning to, Tony’s ultimatum to Fury had probably done its job, ensuring that they definitely wouldn’t do so now.

“24 hours. That’s my final offer. I see Steve in 24 hours - and I mean _see_ in person, without any SHIELD goons standing around. I need to be in the same room as him, not just looking at him over some video monitor. If I don’t, then come hell or high water, I’m going to go get him myself - whatever that requires,” Tony finally replied, his tone of voice making it clear he would brook no argument.

Fury ground his teeth, “Fine, 24 hours. Back here. You’ll see him.”

Tony nodded sharply. “Fine. And when I see him, he better be completely unharmed - mentally and physically. No roughing him up, no threats, no blackmail. I mean it Fury. I am not dicking around here.” And without bothering to say goodbye, Tony left the room. After all, he had quite a lot to do and only one day in which to do it. Who needed sleep? Definitely not Tony.

\-------

**Between four and fourteen hours later…**

Well, Tony’s thorough jaunt through the SHIELD servers (fueled by excessive amounts of coffee and the need to see what exactly Fury was hiding from him) had been _extremely_ interesting. Now Tony knew exactly what had happened in Harlem a couple of years ago (and boy was it big, green and angry). Tony also learned way more about Clint and Natasha than he had ever wanted to (dear god, Budapest). And finally, Tony had stumbled on a fascinating folder titled “The Avengers Initiative,” which had been recently scrapped. Whatever, it's not like Tony had even “qualified” for the initiative anyways. Apparently, he was “volatile, self-obsessed, and didn’t play well with others.”

But with every riveting SHIELD secret he uncovered, he was invariably left with multitudes of unanswered questions. Really interesting unanswered questions. Like what the hell was a “tesseract” and why in the world had Isaac given it to SHIELD? And what exactly was happening in New Mexico? There seemed to be a lot of unnecessary fuss about what looked like an oversized hammer just stuck in the ground.

But eventually, Tony ran out of things to distract himself from thinking about Steve. Hell, he hadn’t been able to stop Steve from consuming his thoughts for the entire past week, why should now be any different? Tony had even tried to find video footage of Steve inside SHIELD headquarters (just to keep an eye - there was a good Fury/eyepatch pun in there somewhere, but Tony was too tired to think of it - on the situation), but had been unable to do so. Indeed, the security cameras for an entire series of rooms inside SHIELD headquarters had been disabled. “Well played, Fury,” Tony muttered under his breath.

So. Steve. Steve, who was Nomad. Steve, who wasn’t quite human because Nomad wasn’t quite human. Steve who probably wasn’t Steve Daniels, ex-Army Special Forces. Unless the Army was doing some really, really classified and advanced human experimentation. Which now that Tony thought about it, definitely wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But if Steve wasn’t Steve Daniels, who was he?

Isaac. Isaac had to have known exactly who exactly Steve was when he volunteered him to be Tony’s bodyguard. Which meant that the answers to all of Tony’s burning questions were somewhere in Isaac’s extensive records and personal notes, which luckily, Isaac had taken to digitizing.

“JARVIS, begin a search of Isaac’s encrypted computer servers. Search all photos for a match of Steve’s face. Search all documents for mentions of ‘Steve’ or ‘Steve Daniels.’ And finally, give me any files that reference human experimentation or enhancement,” Tony dictated as he fidgeted in his chair. Within hours, possibly minutes, he would finally have Steve’s secrets. Tony just hoped the knowledge wouldn’t break him - that it wouldn’t break _them_ (if there even still was a them to break).

\-------

Tony stared at the files detailing “Project Rebirth” and the subsequent classified WWII military reports in disbelief. Captain America. Steve - his Steve - was actually Steven Grant Rogers who was fucking _Captain America._ Meaning that unfortunately, Tony’s first rather hysterical thought was something along the lines of: _I had gay sex with a National Icon. I basically despoiled said National Icon. This might be the worst thing I’ve ever done. My bad, America._

That train of thought was followed shortly by the freak out, _Steve is fucking 94? Steve was mostly dead for 70 years? No wonder he has issues._ It really wasn’t every day that you found out your bodyguard/lover was a presumed dead super soldier and superhero from 1940’s. Tony thought his panic was at quite acceptable levels considering the circumstances.

Tony did not know how to deal with this information. Like at all. Tony had thought he was having trouble processing the whole Steve-Nomad thing. But this new revelation was kind of like a shot to the chest, it made it hard for him to breathe and he couldn’t think about anything except the pain and the fact that he had been fucking shot in the chest. “Captain America,” Tony mouthed silently, still in shock, his eyes wide and unblinking. Tony sat paralyzed for long minutes before nodding decisively and getting up to retrieve a much needed bottle of whiskey.

And to make matters even worse, SHIELD probably knew. They had probably known who he was before they had even suggested bringing “Nomad” in. Which was just fantastic. Apparently _everyone_ (and boy, was Isaac going to have some apologizing to do when he woke up) knew about Steve’s not-so-secret identity - well, everyone except Tony, of course. And no, really, why would it have been important to tell Tony who Steve really was? I mean, it’s not like Tony went and fell in love with someone who basically didn’t exist. Oh wait - that’s exactly what happened! _Everyone_ sucked.

And speaking of people knowing secret identities and not telling Tony - “Did you know?” Tony demanded.

“Know, sir?” JARVIS asked, delicately.

“Do not bullshit me right now, JARVIS. Did you know any of it? That Steve was Steve Rogers, Captain America. That Steve was Nomad.” Tony scoffed before continuing, “Who am I kidding, you had to have known that last one. The vocal signature for them would have been the same - there’s no way you didn’t pick up on that. How could you not tell me?”

“Sir, I am designed to act in your best interests. At the time, I did not deem it-”

Nope. Tony cut JARVIS’s explanation off, “Save it JARVIS, I don’t want to listen to excuses. You’re in time out for now.” And using his override code, Tony temporarily shut down JARVIS before looking at the whiskey, muttering, “Screw it,” and taking a swig directly from the bottle. Shit, even his own AI had lied to him. That was pretty pathetic. Well, at least alcohol had never betrayed him.

Within an hour, Tony was just tipsy enough to think it was a good idea to take himself over to Isaac’s house. He let himself into the house with his key, knowing the rest of the household would still be asleep (it was somewhere around four AM maybe? Tony honestly wasn’t sure). Tony made his way to a small room adjoining the library. Tripping over the threshold (Tony’s balance was a little off), he stumbled into the room and managed to flick on a light. And there, covering the walls and every available surface was Isaac’s World War II memorabilia - a large portion of which was actually Captain America memorabilia.

Tony stared for long minutes, taking in everything. Even though it had been years since he stepped foot in the room - probably eight or more - it looked exactly the same. God, Tony had loved this room as a kid. He had spent hours in here reading Captain America comic books and listening to Isaac’s stories.

Tony suddenly remembered Isaac’s description of how he and Steve had met, from that long ago awful dinner, and muttered darkly under his breath, “Just a little ‘aerial assistance’ was it? What bullshit.” The story of how Isaac had flown Captain America into Nazi-occupied territory (against orders) so he could rescue his best friend had always been one of Tony’s favorites. Even as a kid, Tony had appreciated someone who was willing to say “fuck you” instead of following rules they didn’t believe in.

Even though he hadn’t thought about him in years, Captain America had been what made Tony believe in heroes as a kid. And even though years later, Tony forgot what exactly to believe in (MIT, partying, weapons, Howard), since his kidnapping, he had slowly been figuring it out again - by being Iron Man and with help from Nomad and Steve. _Captain America, Nomad, Steve - they’re all the same person_ , thought Tony.

Tony’s eyes finally landed on the display in the middle of the back wall. Professionally mounted and lit by small display lights was a shield - red and white rings surrounding a white star on a blue background. It wasn’t the original (that one was probably somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean), but one of the prototypes Isaac had kept. Tony walked over and lifted the shield, hefting it in his hand, feeling an illicit sort of glee. Isaac had never let him touch the shield as a kid.

Tony looked down at the shield speculatively. After all, he had about ten more hours to get through until he saw Steve. He needed something to keep his hands and mind busy until then or else he might just go insane. And sleep was for the weak of mind and body - AKA people who weren’t Tony. How hard could it be to bring a shield up-to-date? Tony was Tony fucking Stark - he had designed the Jericho missile system while mostly drunk. Building Captain America a kickass shield would be a piece of cake.

\-------

**Approximately nine hours, half a bottle of whiskey, and one new and improved shield later…**

Logically, Tony knew that he should be furious with Steve. That a normal person would be hurt and angry that the person they loved had lied and kept such a vital part of themselves hidden. But, well. Tony wasn’t quite normal. And neither, he now knew, was Steve. And sure, Tony had been irate and betrayed and all those other typical feelings. He had railed against Steve to JARVIS (whose silent judgement had been quite loud), called him a lot of creative names, got a little drunk, and worked out his frustrations via engineering (using increasingly creative methods to try to destroy the shield - all the name of testing its durability of course!).

He had pretty much worked through his anger in typical Tony Stark fashion and was now mostly left marveling at how well it all _fit._ Tony loved puzzles and Steve and Nomad had been puzzles that Tony had been dying to solve for months. And here, finally, was his solution - and it was pretty spectacular. A plot twist for the ages!

It just made sense that Steve was Nomad and Nomad was Steve. After all, they were the two people that knew Tony (either as Tony Stark or as Iron Man) the best and still somehow liked him - even though Tony was a walking disaster. It even made sense that they both were actually Captain America. Because both Steve and Nomad had always been good, humble, and fiercely determined to do the right thing for freedom and justice, etc. They had possessed all those typical, goody two-shoes, all-American traits that Iron Man definitely didn’t. Tony and Steve had always balanced each other, so it seemed obvious that their superhero alter egos would complement each other as well.

Ultimately, Tony _knew_ Steve. Tony had fallen in love with Steve’s details even when the big picture of Steve had been (apparently) glaringly incomplete. And now that it was finished, should it make Tony love him any less? Could Tony justify pushing Steve away, punishing him for hiding the exact same thing that Tony had lied about for months? Who exactly had betrayed whom?

Tony wondered if it made him weak to want to forgive Steve immediately, to hear his explanation and just tell him that everything was okay. Because honestly, there wasn’t a lot that Tony wouldn’t do for Steve. Hell, he had threatened to topple an international intelligence agency for Steve. Could Tony really justify not forgiving him for this one thing? But then, the extremely unhelpful part of his brain (whose voice sounded a lot like Howard) decided to chime in, _if he lied to once, what makes you think he won’t do it again? Does Steve even think you’re worth telling the truth to? How much could he care about you if he lied?_

So, where did that leave them? And at the end of the day, did it really matter how many lies they had told each other?

* * *

**Steve**

Steve sat in a rather uncomfortable chair, still dressed as Nomad, and faced off against the men sitting across the table. Agent Phil Coulson and Director Nick Fury of SHIELD, apparently.

“Captain Rogers,” Coulson began and well, that answered the question of whether or not they knew who he really was. “We - apologize for the nature of our initial meeting.”

Steve crossed his arms and looked coldly at the two men, “You should know, I don’t like bullies - no matter what side they’re on.”

Coulson cleared his throat, “Yes, well. It seemed like the best option at the time considering your… history with Tony Stark.”

Steve snorted, “You mean you didn’t want me to be alone with Tony before you could talk to me. From what I gather, he’s not your biggest fan.”

“Tony is a - unique individual. Speaking of whom, what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Stark?” Coulson asked, badly concealed curiosity written all over his face.

“We’re friends,” Steve replied shortly. His and Tony’s relationship was emphatically not SHIELD’s business. Seeing Coulson’s skeptical look, he elaborated, “Close friends.” It was even true. Maybe not the whole truth, but close enough. Hell, right now, Steve didn’t even know what exactly their relationship was. Coulson remained silent and Steve leaned forward, palms flat on the table, “Listen, you’re not exactly in the best position to be asking me personal questions and I have no obligation to answer them. I’ll hear what you have to say and that’s about it.”

Fury finally spoke, having been ominously silent thus far. “Listen, Captain. The world you woke up in is more dangerous than the one you left.”

“When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, and they say we won. What’s the problem?” Steve asked. And it’s not that he thought the world necessarily any safer now than it was in the 1940’s (if anything, it was the opposite), but he was interested to see what exactly had made SHIELD so desperate to get to him. Because that’s what this felt like, desperation.

“If you don’t think the world is still at war, then you’re mistaken. Sure, we - SHIELD - have made some mistakes, some very recently. But at the end of the day, we’re trying to save the world. And we need your help to do it,” Fury said, gaze intent on Steve.

“What exactly do you want from me?” Steve asked, cutting to the chase.

Fury leaned back, “The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. I still believe in heroes, do you?”

Steve stared at Fury, thoughts churning. He wanted to believe that SHIELD were the good guys. That they knew the value of strength and the value of power. That they would use said strength and power to make the world better, more secure, for everyone. That if he agreed, they would use _Steve_ to make the world better and safer. Finally, he spoke, “Before I even consider saying yes, I have a few conditions that need to be met first.”

* * *

**Tony**

Exactly 24 hours after his confrontation with Fury, Tony was cooling his heels in a SHIELD conference room. Tony took in the blandly colored walls and carpeting along with the large circular table surrounded by chairs and snorted. Not exactly the most interesting location for his and Steve’s dramatic face-to-face. Tony flipped a middle finger at the security camera in the corner of the ceiling before disabling it with a few taps to his phone. Tony then did some pacing, up and down the length of the room, before eventually perching himself on top of the table, legs swinging and facing the door. And then, as if summoned by the sheer intensity of Tony’s thoughts, the door opened to reveal Steve. Finally, he and Steve were alone together, with nothing separating them except about six feet of awful carpeting.

Tony greedily ran his gaze along Steve (wishing he could follow the same path with his hands), reassuring himself that Steve was whole and here and safe. Steve was dressed in a SHIELD t-shirt (that luckily for Tony seemed to be about two sizes too small for him) and SHIELD sweatpants and he looked good; but then again, he always did. Steve stood just inside the closed the door, making no move to come closer. Steve’s expression was carefully blank (as if unsure of his reception?), but he also seemed to be drinking in the sight of Tony where he sat on the table. Neither of them spoke.

Tony rolled his eyes, it was time to get this show on the road. He leveled his gaze at Steve, “You lied.”

Steve stiffened before replying, “So did you,” and taking a step closer to Tony. He was just five feet away now.

Tony arched an eyebrow at Steve, struggling to keep a smile off his face. God, he had missed Steve so much; he had even missed arguing with him. It felt so good just to be in the same room as him again. “Well, I told the truth first.”

Steve took a step closer (four feet away). “Sure, you told the truth and then you left.” Ah. So Steve hadn’t conveniently forgotten Tony’s little freak out post sleeping together. Tony had kind of been hoping that Steve’s guilt over the whole Nomad thing would make him feel too bad to be angry at Tony about that whole situation, but apparently he wasn’t so lucky.

“So did you,” Tony replied, throwing Steve’s earlier words back in his face. “And at least I didn’t leave all the way to the opposite coast.” Which Tony thought was a pretty valid rebuttal. Also, he was dying to know exactly Steve had been doing this past week while away from Tony. He wanted to know everything about Steve. Tony kind of just wanted to crawl inside of Steve’s mind, inside of his skin, and stay there forever.

Steve took another step closer (three feet away), his expression was still neutral, but his eyes seemed to sparkle. “I told you I was coming back.”

“Yes, you did. And here you are. Although your return was a bit more dramatic than I was expecting, what with the whole vigilante reveal, you know,” Tony remarked dryly, widening his legs subtly.

Steve winced and took one more step forward (two feet away now), “That’s not how I meant- I didn’t know you were-” before cutting himself off and looking at Tony helplessly. It was adorable.

Tony hummed, the smile he had been fighting curling the edges of his mouth.

Steve gave him a small, almost wickedly amused smile in return. “You know, I expected more yelling,” he said conversationally as he stepped forward once more (one foot away).

Tony tipped his back slightly in order to maintain eye contact with Steve, who was now so close that Tony thought he might be able to count Steve’s ridiculously long eyelashes if he tried. Tony wanted him closer, craved it. “Me too,” he said, his voice sounding rather breathless even to his own ears.

Steve took the final step into to Tony’s space, placing himself right in between Tony’s spread legs as they hung off the table. Tony could feel the heat radiating off of Steve’s body as his hands came up to cup Tony’s face. Tony gasped slightly at the contact, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as he reveled in Steve’s touch. Tony’s eyes flew open as Steve lowered his forehead to rest against Tony’s, their faces now centimeters apart, breaths practically mingling. Steve’s gaze bore into Tony’s as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 _I’m sorry._ And Tony believed him. Two little words and Tony let go of any residual anger, any small amount of betrayal that he might have been holding on to. Because right now, he wanted nothing more than to revel in being in Steve’s arms again. An apology from someone who hated admitting they were wrong. It was enough.“I’m sorry too. It’s okay,” Tony murmured, his hands coming up to clutch at Steve’s waist.

Steve closed his eyes briefly and sighed before opening them again and favoring Tony with a brilliant smile. And then, apparently, the time for words was over, because Steve moved impossibly close and claimed Tony’s lips in a fierce kiss.

They kissed like they had been starving for it, like they had been separated for months or years, instead of just a week. Although, to be fair, a lot had happened in that week and Tony had been sure Steve would never kiss him again. It was desperate, almost bruising, and Tony never wanted to leave the warm, slick comfort of Steve’s mouth. Tony slid his tongue between Steve’s lips and Steve groaned, his hands running down Tony’s back and pulling him even closer, apparently determined not to leave a single inch of space between them. Tony was totally onboard with that plan and as they continued to kiss, he eagerly wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, arching into Steve’s embrace.

Everywhere their bodies touched seemed to ignite sparks in Tony, bolstering the fire that threatened to consume him. Steve’s mouth continued to devour his, their tongues rubbing and twining together - an erotic prelude to what their bodies wanted to be doing. They kissed and Tony wondered if it would always be like this between them, something wild and almost uncontrollable.

Tony felt dizzy from arousal and want and the high of finally having Steve pressed against him again. He swiped his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip before giving it a gentle bite and breaking the kiss to take a few much needed breaths of air. Steve used the pause to his advantage, rucking up Tony’s t-shirt to splay warm hands on Tony’s skin as he nipped at Tony’s jaw line. Tony shivered in pleasure and Steve crushed their lips together again.

Tony was burning up and he wanted more (or to be wearing less clothing), but just as he arched again, adjusting his position to finally grind their hard-ons together, Steve tore his mouth away from Tony’s, breathing heavily. His lips were slick and red from kissing and his hair was in disarray. He looked perfect. “Come back here,” murmured Tony, trying to unsuccessfully tug Steve’s head back down to his. Why wasn’t Steve still kissing him? They should always be kissing.

“No,” Steve said, looking determined. The single word penetrated Tony’s fog of lust. No? Oh god, not this again. Steve couldn’t be saying no. He looked at Steve in confusion and trepidation. Clearly reading Tony’s expression, Steve hurried to clarify, “I mean not yet. We still need to talk, I just got uh-” he broke off, his gaze dropping down to Tony’s lips as he flushed prettily before continuing, “-distracted.”

Thank god. Okay, yes. Tony agreed. They still needed to talk.  And any talk they were about to have would be way more fun if Tony knew there would be more kissing waiting for him at the end of it. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. We should talk. Quickly. And then we should continue with the making out,” Tony replied. Tony really did have the best ideas.

Steve licked his lips and nodded, making no motion to move out of the circle of Tony’s arms. Tony’s hands were still tangled in Steve’s hair and Steve’s were still gripping Tony’s waist. Steve’s heated gaze roamed across Tony’s body and he remained silent. “Steve?” Tony prompted, with a small smile.  
Steve’s gaze snapped back up to meet Tony’s. “Right. There’s something else I have to tell you,” he said gravely, looking adorably nervous.

And wait, Tony could totally guess what was coming. “Oh really… Captain America?” he teased, hands toying with the hair at Steve’s nape.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, his eyes closing.

“Steven Grant Rogers, language!” Tony admonished around a smirk.

Steve’s eyes opened again and he looked at Tony resignedly, “Was it SHIELD? I wanted to be the one to tell you… everything. I was planning on telling you as soon as I got back, but clearly that didn’t go according to plan.”

Which was sweet and made Tony feel warm and affectionate all over. Because Steve had been planning on telling him. That fact, combined with the kissing, made Tony really believe for the first time since their initial kiss that Steve might actually want… this. That Steve might want Tony back, that he might want a future that included a _them_ . “No. SHIELD didn’t tell me. I figured it out on my own after the Nomad revelation. It wasn’t _that_ hard.”

Steve chuckled at that, “Of course you did. Only Tony Stark would think that discovering a highly classified government secret ‘wasn’t that hard.’”

“Well it wasn’t,” said Tony grumpily and Steve smiled as he leaned down to kiss Tony again. Tony sighed happily into the kiss, body going lax to press against Steve’s. But just as things were starting to heat up, Steve pulled away again, and this time (much to Tony’s displeasure), actually took a step back, putting space between them. Steve looked rueful and ran a hand through his hair. Tony crossed his arms and pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that Tony. We’re never going to get any talking done if I stay that close to you.”

Which fine, Steve _might_ have a valid point. Now that he knew it was okay (that Steve was on board), Tony was planning on spending a lot of time kissing Steve. “Alright, you win this round Rogers. Tell me what the men in black wanted.” When Steve just looked confused (and wow, all the missed pop culture references made _way_ more sense now), Tony clarified, “SHIELD. What did they want to talk to you about?”

“They want me to join SHIELD. Officially.  And Director Fury mentioned something called the Avengers Initiative - about giving me a team to lead?” Steve said and just like that, Tony’s smile slid off of his face.

“Are you going to do it?” Tony asked, his voice unsteady. Tony felt the bottom dropping out of his stomach. Was he going to get Steve again only for a moment before losing him, this time to SHIELD?

Steve looked at him, expression earnest and yearning, “Tony, I would get to be Captain America again.” Steve said “Captain America” with such longing in his voice. Shit.

“How could you want to join SHIELD after what they did?” Tony demanded.

Steve bit his lip, “Look, we discussed it. They’re not going to do something like that again and they agreed that I would get autonomous control over my team, at least in the field.” Steve looked at Tony and his eyes pleaded for Tony to understand, “Tony, being Captain America again is the only thing I’ve wanted since waking up-” he paused before continuing softly, “-well, except for you”.

And something in Tony broke at that. Because apparently, miracle of miracles, Steve wanted him back. And Tony wasn’t giving up on Steve, on them without a fight. “Can you trust them? Can you trust Fury?” he asked.

“Why? Do you think he’s hiding something?” Steve replied, face serious.

“He’s a spy, Steve. He’s THE spy. His secrets have secrets. It’s not going to end well and I can’t just sit back and watch you get hurt,” Tony said, his voice faltering as he finished speaking. Tony realized that he was sitting rigidly upright and slumped back down, running a hand over his face. Because that was Tony’s real fear, that Steve would fully join SHIELD as Captain America and Tony, as a ‘consultant,’ wouldn’t be there on missions with him. That Tony wouldn’t be there when Steve needed him, to protect Steve from any and all threats - whether external or internal.

Tony finally looked back up at Steve and found him smiling fondly at Tony, “I guess you better come with me then”

“What?” Tony asked in shock. What did Steve mean? There was no way-  
“I need someone to watch my back and help me lead the team and you’re the only one I trust to do both of those things,” Steve said casually. As if he hadn’t just been the first person to tell Tony Stark they unequivocally trusted him with their life. As if people just went around all the time _believing_ in him.

Tony scoffed, “In case you haven’t heard Cap, I’m just a ‘consultant.’ SHIELD is never going to actually let me close enough to do anything besides maybe design them some tech. And they’re for sure never going to let me anywhere near the Avengers Initiative.”

Steve crossed his arms and raised his brows at Tony, a familiar mulish expression settling on his face, “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing that I made you a non-negotiable part of my deal with them.”

“What?” Tony croaked. Steve couldn’t mean what Tony thought he meant.

“SHIELD wants me, but they don’t get me without you - without Tony Stark, without Iron Man. I’m not doing anything unless you’re there at my side. I made that very clear in my meeting with Fury.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open in shock. It actually took him a minute to fully process what Steve had said before he started laughing, “Oh god, I bet Fury loved that. Damn. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. I bet that vein in his forehead started throbbing.”

Steve just looked charmingly confused, “I don’t understand why SHIELD doesn’t want you more involved.”

Tony just laughed harder, “Steve. I’m ‘volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others’ - those are SHIELD’s exact words, straight out of their in-depth personality assessment of me, and they’re not exactly unfounded accusations.”

Steve continued to look stubborn, “Well, you ‘play well’ with me.”

Tony gave Steve an extremely thorough once over, before he smirking and replying, “Yeah I do.”

Predictably, Steve blushed. “I mean it Tony. You are none of those things with me. You’re loyal, smart, strong and underneath a few layers of ego and snark, you’re hiding a good heart. So yes, I really can’t understand why SHIELD wouldn’t want you in their inner circle.”

Tony’s breath caught. That sounded dangerously close to some sore of - declaration. “My heart has shrapnel waiting to tear it apart, it’s not exactly my best feature,” Tony murmured.

Steve stepped right back into Tony’s space, his eyes intent and focused on Tony. “Yes it is. Come on Tony, say yes,” Steve urged as he laid a hand directly over the center of Tony’s chest, right over the arc reactor. Tony thought he might have literally felt said discussed heart skip a beat.

Tony stared into Steve’s gorgeous blue eyes and wanted to tell him yes, yes to it all. Because this was perilously close to everything that Tony wanted - him and Steve, together. Lives irrevocably intertwined. It was something that Tony hadn’t even know he could have until he had discovered Steve’s true identity, but now he wanted it desperately. Tony and Steve, Iron Man and Captain America.

But before Tony could reply, his phone started buzzing on the table next to him. He reached over to reject the call without looking at who it was. Tony started to speak, “I-” but was cut off as his phone began vibrating again. He looked down at the screen to see who was calling and frowned before looking back up at Steve, “I better take this, I’ll be back in a minute, okay.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a smile and leaned down to give Tony a quick kiss on the side of the mouth as he leapt down off of the table. Tony smiled back at him and rose on his toes to steal a more thorough kiss before leaving the room.

Standing in the hallway outside, Tony finally answered his phone, “Tony Stark speaking.”

* * *

**Steve**

Steve stood smiling at the empty room. His reunion with Tony was going better than he could have ever hoped. Tony finally knew his secret and he had forgiven Steve, seemingly wholeheartedly. And he had kissed Steve back. Steve was beginning to realize that maybe Tony would always kiss him back. Tony would be back soon, and they would finish talking and then… Steve’s mind flicked ahead towards later that night and he hoped for him, Tony, a bed and a beginning. He would finally get the chance to tell Tony he loved him. Steve thought Tony might just love him back, or at least he might one day soon. Steve couldn’t believe that he was so close to having - everything; having Captain America and Tony.

Minutes passed and Tony still didn’t come back. A quarter of an hour later, Steve stepped out in the hallway, intending to make sure everything was okay. But Tony was nowhere to be found. Steve turned his head and looked down to the other end of the hallway. Still no Tony. Steve started to walk, refusing to let himself panic. Tony wouldn’t have left again, not now, when there was no reason for him to. Not now when they were so close to figuring everything out.

As Steve rounded a corner he almost ran headlong into Natasha, who was carrying a large box. “Agent Romanov,” Steve said, “Have you seen Tony?”

Natasha looked at him oddly, “He didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me what?” Steve asked impatiently. Where was Tony?

Natasha stared, “It’s all over the news. There’s been a car crash. Howard Stark - Tony’s father - he’s dead. And the authorities think it might not have been an accident.”

Steve inhaled sharply, “No, no. He didn’t tell me. Has he already left?” Why hadn’t Tony told him? Steve would have gone with him, could maybe have helped. Steve would have been anything that Tony needed him to be.

Natasha looked at him with something akin to pity, “Yes, Tony left about ten minutes ago. Before he left, he asked me to give this to you.” Natasha held out the box to him before turning to leave, giving him some privacy.

Steve tore open the box and stared in disbelief. It was his shield. At least, it looked like his shield. And then Steve saw the post-it note stuck to the middle of the star. Steve grabbed it and read the hastily scrawled note:

> _Steve,_
> 
> _Don’t get too excited, it’s not the original (don’t worry, I’m working on it), but it should do in a pinch. And really, how did you expect anyone to buy that you’re Captain America without the shield?_
> 
> _~~Best~~ ,_ ~~_Yours_~~ _,_ ~~ _Always_~~ _, Love,_
> 
> _Tony_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS IS LATE! I had writer’s block. Originally, I had planned to write the entire confrontation as being angrier, on both sides, but when I sat down and tried to do it, it kept not working. I think what I wrote ended up reflecting where the characters are emotionally more accurately? Whatever, at least it’s written and we’re so, so close to the end!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! You guys are awesome and make me want to spend all of my time writing!!


	14. Steve is Still Working Out the Kinks in the Whole “Tracking Down Tony and Keeping him out of Trouble” Thing

**Tony**

Tony walked out of SHIELD headquarters in a daze. He felt numb, drained of feeling, empty. Tony distractedly wondered what kind of person it made him, that upon hearing about his father’s death, he felt shock, but not any sadness, not any despair. What was wrong with him? He felt some regret, maybe. Regret for a relationship that had never happened, but no grief. Maybe it would come later (and knowing Tony’s luck, that breakdown would happen at an extremely inconvenient time), but right now, Tony was mostly reeling from the _implications_ of Howard’s death. Because Stark Industries was _his_.

Tony felt a fierce rush of pride and joy - emotions that were definitely out of place considering the situation. Joy because Tony could finally, _finally_ stop SI weapons production and pride because he knew that given the chance, he could turn SI into something truly spectacular. A legacy worth having. _I haven’t even buried him yet and I’m already making plans for his company._ _Wow, that is pretty screwed up,_ Tony thought with a detached sort of hysteria. _Steve better realize who exactly he’s getting involved with._

And shit. Steve.

Tony couldn’t believe that he had done it again - left Steve with no explanation and only a note. And right when they had been so close to figuring their shit out too. He really was a hot mess. Tony just hoped that he hadn’t screwed things up irrevocably with Steve.

Tony just hadn’t had the presence of mind - the brain capacity - to think about Steve after that phone call beyond thrusting the package containing the shield (along with his fucking heart) at Natasha as he raced out of the building. Steve would understand that Tony hadn’t really meant to just leave like that again, wouldn’t he? God damn it. Tony knew that having Steve with him right now would only distract him, make him want to focus on Steve and this new thing between them instead of his responsibilities, but he wanted Steve next to him nonetheless. And obviously, Steve deserved somebody better than Tony, but Tony would be damned if he was going to give Steve up.

Tony immediately felt guilty, and he didn’t know what he felt worse about. For wanting Steve with him in the first place - for not being strong enough to shoulder this burden on his own - or for leaving right as he had been on the verge of promising Steve a _them,_ a future together. And abruptly, Tony realized that the voice in his head, the one that said loving someone made him weak and spineless and too vulnerable was _Howard’s_ voice _._ It was a voice that for better or worse, Tony would never hear again. It was a voice that didn’t have power over Tony anymore.

Tony whipped out his phone, and praying that SHIELD hadn’t confiscated Steve’s, hurriedly composed a text message. _I’m sorry. Again. I’ll call as soon as I get a moment._ Tony paused his typing, worrying his lip anxiously before continuing, _But I just wanted to say, yes. Yes, to everything. And I meant exactly what I said in the note._ Tony stared at the message, worrying, and before he could talk himself out of it, pressed send. It had to be enough for now.

Tony’s next call was the to the chairman of SI’s board of directors. After all, Tony had an entire list of things to take care of (things to get through before he could go back to Steve), starting with an announcement that he was taking over as Stark Industries’ CEO - assuring stockholders, investors, and the public that despite Howard’s sudden passing away, SI would remain in good hands.

The phone rang and the chairman answered, “Tony, we’re all so sorry for your loss. You have our sincerest condolences.”

“Thank you Mr. Ogden, I appreciate that. What’s the earliest you think you could get the board together? We need a press release announcing my appointment as CEO and-”

Tony was cut off as Mr. Ogden made a sound of surprise, “No, Tony - I thought you knew.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, worry beginning to swell underneath his breastbone, “You thought I knew what?”

“You’re not the new CEO. A few months  ago, Howard made his wishes very clear to the board. Should something happen to him before you turn 25, Mr. Stane would be named CEO of Stark Industries in the interim. There is a long list of other provisions and wishes that Howard had formalized in the event of-” Mr. Ogden continued to talk, but Tony tuned him out as multiple different thoughts began clamoring for his attention..

“Mr. Ogden, I have to go,” Tony said distractedly, hanging up before the chairman could say anything in response.

 _Obadiah?_ But that didn’t make any sense. Tony’s mind raced, linking disparate facts at lightning speed. His kidnapping. Isaac’s hospitalization. Howard’s “accidental” death. Once was unlucky, twice was tragedy, but three times - well, three times was a pattern. And suddenly, with horribly clarity, everything clicked into place.

\-------

Tony rang the doorbell and the door swung open to reveal Obadiah.

“Tony, my boy! I wasn’t expecting you, come in, come in.” Tony remained silent as Obadiah ushered him into the living room and poured him a glass of scotch, talking all the while, “I’m so glad you came over. So awful, what happened to Howard. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Tony accepted the glass but didn’t drink, settling for swirling the contents around as he finally spoke, “I hear congratulations are in order. New CEO, huh?”

Obadiah looked at him with a face full of sympathy before sighing, “I’m so sorry, Tony. I know that Howard had always promised that SI would be one day be yours. And believe me, I never wanted this. SI should be in the hands of a Stark. But your kidnapping - you came back a different person. You left a part of yourself in that cave and Howard just wanted what was best for the company. It breaks my heart, but there it is.”

Tony’s heart raced and he felt his stomach churn, nauseous at the show Obadiah was putting on for his benefit. “Why did you do it?” Tony asked, voice sharp and accusatory.

“Do what?” Obadiah replied, his voice and face the picture of innocent bewilderment.

And Tony knew he shouldn’t ask the question burning inside of him. That now was not the time, that he should wait. But before he could stop it, the question burst out of him, “Why did you kill him? He was your friend.”

Tony watched as the puzzled expression melted off of Obadiah’s face only to be replaced with one of cold fury. And suddenly, all Tony could hear was a high pitched buzzing in the room. Almost immediately, he felt his limbs go stiff and unresponsive. The glass Tony had been clutching in his hand fell to the floor and shattered as Tony collapsed.

Obadiah knelt over him and held up a small remote for him to see, “Shame the government never approved this for use. Think of all the things you can do with 15 minutes of paralysis.” Then Obadiah sighed again, “Oh Tony. I wish that this could have gone differently. I had hoped that you would die in peace, ignorant of the truth. But I suppose it can’t be helped. You were always too clever for your own good, my boy.”

Tony grunted and tried to move his hand, barely managing a feeble twitch of his fingers. So stupid, he had been so stupid. How did he not think-

Obadiah cut of his train of thought with a tsk, “Now, now, none of that. It’s useless to try and move.” Obadiah stared down into Tony’s face for a few seconds before he continued to speak, “Since I’m going to be killing you shortly, I suppose I can answer your question. Why did I kill Howard? Quite simply because I had to. It’s regrettable, I never meant for Howard to be a casualty in all of this, but he would have stood in the way of progress. It all started when I hired those men to kill you all those months ago. Yes, that was me, as I’m sure you figured out. It was a distasteful task, but necessary. You see, despite your penchant for drunken debauchery, Howard was seriously considering stepping down and giving you control of Stark Industries within the next few years. And I couldn’t have that. You, the dissolute playboy, would have ruined everything that we had built together. So naturally, you had to be removed.”

Tony struggled to move, if he could just reach his watch, he could activate the gauntlet and repulsor it contained, but nothing happened. He was alone and helpless, stuck listening to this psychopath prattle on.

Obadiah, oblivious to Tony’s internal struggles, continued to speak, “When I ordered the hit on you, I was worried that I was killing the golden goose. But you see, it was just fate that you survived that. You had one last golden egg to give. Do you really think that just because you have an idea it belongs to you? You grandfather, he helped give us the atomic bomb. Now what kind of world would it be today if he were as selfish as you? The suit is beautiful, a masterpiece of death. I recovered the pieces of the armor you used to escape the desert and have had a select group of engineers secretly working on manufacturing suits of my own for months now, but I was always missing something. I could never get them to work. Howard, of course, had no idea what I was doing.”

Obadiah broke off speaking to chuckle and went to pour himself another glass of liquor. God, grandstanding villains were the worst. This was such a cliché. “All my engineers told me that the technology to power the suits didn’t exist. But it did, you built it in a cave, from a box of scraps. And just as I was wondering what exactly I had to do to get the information from you, you walked right into my office and gave it to me, with no strings attached. Poor Tony, always so desperate for Howard’s approval. Because among all those useless schematics you sent me there was one for a miniaturized version of the arc reactor that Howard and I could never get to work. And I finally had what I needed.”

Obadiah took a sip from his glass and gazed out his window, his expression one of naked greed. “I realized that this was my legacy. A new generation of weapons - with the armor and arc reactor technology at its heart. Weapons that will help steer the world back on course, that will put the balance of power back in our hands. The right hands. But I couldn’t exactly carry out my plan while any Starks remained alive. One of you would have realized, would have made the connection between me, the new technology, and your kidnapping. And so, in the name of a better future, you, Isaac, and Howard had to be removed.”

Obadiah stopped to shake his head in mock sadness before staring down at Tony again, “You Starks have proved unexpectedly resilient. But it doesn’t matter now. Howard is dead and with my influence, nothing suspicious will ever be discovered about his death. And Isaac - well, he’s an old man and no one will think twice if he has an unexpected medical complication and passes away quietly. And you, Tony? Nobody cared when you disappeared the first time, so I don’t expect it will be much different when you disappear this time. After all, the whole world knows that being Iron Man is dangerous. I will of course put all the resources of Stark Industries into finding you, but alas, neither you nor your body will never be recovered. And in a few years, the Stark name will be forgotten.”

Tony mustered all of his strength and all of his willpower and it was enough - or rather, Obadiah had been droning on for so long that some of the paralysis had worn off enough for Tony to open his mouth and let out a weak chuckle. Obadiah’s gaze sharpened and before he could reach into his pocket again for the paralysis device, Tony spoke, his voice a quiet rasp and words slurring around a mostly uncooperative tongue, “Do you really think I came here without telling anyone? I know exactly what you have been building and where.”

Tony saw fear creep into Obadiah’s expression and exalted, feeling a vicious swirl of satisfaction course through him as he continued to speak, “There’s a team of SHIELD agents heading to the warehouse right now, to take the suits. And as soon as they have them secured, they’re coming for you.”

At Tony’s words, Obadiah’s face contorted in a snarl, rage lighting up his eyes, before his expression was wiped eerily clean, only a small smile remaining. And then Obadiah pulled up Tony’s shirt and exposed the arc reactor, “Well Tony, it looks like I have to cut this conversation short. It appears I am urgently needed elsewhere. I wish that I could have done this with more finesse, but then again, beggars can’t be choosers.” And with a grin, Obadiah pulled out a circular device and ripped the arc reactor out of Tony’s chest.

Obadiah stood up and looked at the arc reactor briefly before dropping it to the ground. Tony watched with desperate eyes as it rolled across the floor, out of sight and definitely out of reach. Obadiah then wiped his hands on his pants, finished his drink and left the room. Tony distantly heard the front door slam and then a car starting and peeling out of the driveway. Tony remained on the ground, still unable to move. He could feel his heart pounding and knew that with every pulse, the shrapnel was one second closer to its ultimate destination. Tony gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and thought, _I am not going to die here._ And slowly, so slowly, he curled his hand into a fist. _Progress._

* * *

**Steve**

Steve was in an empty SHIELD gym, getting used to the weight and movement of his new shield and desperately trying to distract himself from thinking about Tony ( _if he needed you, if he wanted you with him, he would have asked)_ when Coulson found him. “Captain Rogers,” Coulson announced from behind him.

Steve caught his shield after it rebounded off of a wall and turned to face Coulson. Coulson gave him a serious look and continued, “I’m afraid your first mission will be sooner than planned. Tony may be in trouble.”

Steve felt his blood run cold. “Tell me,” he demanded and Coulson did.

Coulson laid out the situation - Obadiah Stane’s illegal weapons dealings, his involvement in Tony’s kidnapping, and the army of Iron Man suits that Stane had built. “We’re sending a team to the address Mr. Stark provided in order to secure the suits and we would like to you to come with us.”

Steve cut right to the chase, “Where’s Tony?”  
  
“Mr. Stark said he would meet us there,” Coulson replied and that… didn’t feel right to Steve.

“I need my phone, now,” Steve snapped. It had been taken from him as soon as he had arrived at SHIELD headquarters.

Coulson cocked his head to the side but didn’t question him any further, for which Steve was grateful. Coulson reached into the pocket of his suit and withdrew Steve’s phone tossing it to him. Steve caught it and powered it on, “JARVIS, tell me where Tony is.”

\-------

One broken window later and Steve was standing in Obadiah Stane’s house, which was conspicuously dark and quiet. Steve cursed internally. Was he too late? Had Tony already left or had he been taken from the house? Steve refused to entertain any other possibility. Tony had to be fine, he had to be. And then, Steve heard a thud and a muffled groan from the next room.

Steve ran and skidded to a halt when he saw Tony slumped against a wall, skin ashen and eyes closed. One of Tony’s hand lay over his chest and the other was outstretched as if reaching for something. In a flash, Steve was kneeling by Tony’s side, cradling his head. “Tony, are you alright?” he asked, frantic worry evident in his voice.

Tony’s eyes fluttered open but remained unfocused. He smiled faintly, “Steve?” he slurred, “I guess dying has perks, namely - hallucination.”

Steve felt his heart stop, “Dying? Tony, tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s the point?” Tony murmured, head lolling to the side.

Steve gripped Tony’s head and held it upright. Then, pushing down his panic, Steve spoke in his firmest Captain America voice, “Tony. Listen to me. You are not hallucinating and you are not dying. You are going to open your eyes and tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it. Do it now.” Steve punctuated his statement with a firm kiss to Tony’s lips, feeling that that was the best way to get his attention.

Tony’s eyes opened once more and this time his gaze fixed firmly on Steve’s face, “My arc reactor,” he gasped, “It rolled,” and he weakly gestured with his arm.

Steve immediately raised Tony’s shirt and there, where the reactor should be safely ensconced, was just a gaping hole. “Okay, okay. I’m going to find it. It’ll be alright,” Steve said. He didn’t know who he was trying to reassure more, himself or Tony. Tony’s eyes had slid closed again and he was worryingly motionless against the wall, as if he had expended the last of his strength.

Steve quickly scanned the room, not immediately seeing the arc reactor, but then, just as he was becoming desperate, he noticed a glint of light underneath the couch. A moment later he had the arc reactor in his hands and was crouching down next to Tony. He whipped out his phone, “Okay JARVIS, walk me through attaching this.” And a few breathless, nerve-wracking minutes later, the arc reactor was nestled back in Tony’s chest where it belonged.

Steve pulled a limp Tony into his lap, hands stroking gently through his hair, and waited. “Please be okay, you have to be okay,” he whispered, praying that he had gotten to Tony in time. Steve watched as Tony’s skin regained a healthy color and breathing that had been too fast and shallow slowed down and deepened.

Tony’s racing pulse quieted and eventually, Tony’s eyes opened, seemingly for good this time. He blinked confusedly up at Steve and reached a hand up to run fingers along Steve’s cheek before asking, “So, not hallucinating then?”

Steve felt almost crippling relief and smiled shakily down at Tony, “No, not hallucinating.”

Suddenly, Tony jerked, hand coming up to clutch at his chest, “My arc-”

Steve immediately jumped in, pressing Tony’s hand firmly against the arc reactor, “It’s there, I found it and JARVIS told me how to connect it.”

“Okay,” breathed Tony, relaxing once more.

“You know, we really have to talk about this habit you have of running away and leaving cryptic notes after kissing me. Good communication is the key to a healthy relationship, after all,” Steve remarked dryly, trying to lighten the mood and distract - well, both of them, from what had almost just happened.

Tony blinked innocently up at him, eyes wide, “Doesn’t almost dying get me a free pass this time?”

Steve snorted, “I’m pretty sure that ‘almost dying’ was your excuse last time. And you know, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m extremely uncomfortable with the amount of ‘almost dying’ you’ve done lately,”

Tony finally seemed to be feeling better and with groan pushed himself up and off of Steve’s lap. Still sitting on the ground, Tony smirked at Steve, “Aw babe, that’s so sweet”

Steve scowled, mostly not liking the way Tony still seemed to still be listing unsteadily to one side. “Babe?” He asked, hand reaching out to steady Tony.

“You don’t like babe? How about baby? Sweetheart? Honey? We’ll figure it out, don’t-” Tony rambled and Steve kissed him, this time to shut him up (it was the most effective way to do so, Steve was quickly finding out). Tony hummed and tried to deepen the kiss, tongue darting out, but Steve pulled away and gave Tony an admonishing look.

Tony pouted, “Right, okay, I’m focusing. Is the rest of SHIELD-”

“Going to the warehouse, yes,” Steve replied.

At this, Tony paled and straightened up, “Oh shit, I just remembered. Obadiah. He knows SHIELD is coming, he’s going to the warehouse too.”

Steve frowned and turned on the communicator that that he had kept off so far, wanting to focus solely on finding Tony. “Coulson? What’s your status?”

“Captain Rogers?” Coulson asked. Steve could hear gunshots ringing out in the background as Coulson continued, “If you have Mr. Stark and he’s safe, I think you two better get over here. As soon as possible.”

Tony and Steve shared a significant look before Tony pipped up, “Well shit, I guess I need my armor.”

\-------

A short time later, Steve and Tony (now safely suited up as Iron Man) were touching down in the middle of the battle raging around Stane’s secret warehouse. SHIELD agents were battling several large metal suits, all bigger, bulkier and outfitted with heavier artillery than Tony’s personal model. “Well, fuck,” Tony murmured under his breath, “I guess Stane isn’t the only one with a suit.”

As Steve and Tony watched, the SHIELD agents managed to isolate one of the suits of armor and suddenly, Natasha was leaping up and wrapping a length of cord around the neck of the suit and bringing it to the ground. But as Natasha attempted to keep the armor pinned, one of its arms snapped up and she was thrown backwards. “The arc reactors, Steve, SHIELD has to target the arc reactors. They’re powering the suits, without them, they won’t be able to move,” Tony spoke lowly and urgently. And just as he was finishing speaking, the door to the warehouse exploded and huge suit of armor emerged from the flames. “Stane,” Tony muttered, adding in a curse for good measure.

Steve quickly surveyed the situation, forming plans in his head, and then began speaking into the communicator, organizing the SHIELD agents and relaying information about the arc reactors. “Hawkeye, do you have arrows that can disable them?”

“Enough electricity, or an EMP blast,” Tony murmured into his own communicator.

“Hawkeye should have an arrow that will work and if not, then, I might have something,” Natasha said over the com, and Steve recalled the widow’s bites that she carried.

“Alright Black Widow, we can work that. Iron Man, can you distract Stane while we deal with other suits?” Steve asked.

His faceplate was still up and at the question, Tony turned looked at Steve, his eyes hard and glittering, “Stane is mine.”

Steve nodded, “Okay, let’s do this.” And Tony was off and flying, punching into Stane and sending the two suits of armor tumbling back into the warehouse, out of Steve’s sight. Steve felt a ripple of worry for Tony before remembering the amount of times that Iron Man and Nomad had fought together before. He trusted Tony. He trusted _them_ , as a team. They could handle this.

Steve flung his shield at the head of the nearest suit of armor and it snapped back, stunning whoever was operating it and sending it tumbling to the ground. “Black Widow,” Steve called and Natasha was there, throwing the end of a cable at Steve as they worked to keep the armor pinned to the ground. “Okay, Hawkeye, you should have a clear shot,” and before Steve was finished speaking an arrow was lodging itself in the center of the arc reactor of the armor, crackling with electricity. The armor spasmed and the arc reactor flickered and went dark as the armor ceased moving.

Steve, Clint, and Natasha worked together to take down the rest of the suits of armor. In the background, Steve was always aware of Tony’s battle with Stane, which raged on the ground and occasionally, in the air.  As the last suit of armor was disabled, everything was suddenly quiet. Panicking slightly, Steve looked around and saw no sign of Tony. “Iron Man, status?” he asked into the com.

After a minute, Tony’s voice came through and Steve breathed a sigh of relief, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Captain. I’m in the sky and Stane is following. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t solve the icing problem.”

“Icing problem?” Steve prompted.

Tony grunted and cursed, “Shit. Not enough time to explain. But if I’m right, Stane should be crashing back down to you guys, mostly disabled, any moment now. Be ready to take out his reactor.”

And minutes later, as promised, the large suit was falling from the sky and creating a crater in the concrete. A red and gold streak followed it down and stopped to hover over the prostrate suit. “Now,” said Steve and once again, he, Natasha, and Clint (this time, with an assist from Tony), sprang into action to disable the final arc reactor.

As the light in Stane’s suit flickered and dimmed, Tony whistled and placed a gauntlet over his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing that Stane and his pet engineers never figured out how to deal with EMP blasts.”

Steve turned to look at Tony, “This wouldn’t work on your suit?”

“Please, Cap. I’m not an amateur.” And Steve could just imagine the cocky grin on Tony’s face underneath the faceplate as he spoke.

Steve smiled, “All right, good work, everyone. Now it’s time for clean up.”

After a moment of silence, Tony raised his hand and asked, “Um, can I be excused?”

\-------

Steve was the last to leave the conference room, exhausted and drained. Stane and the rest of the pilots of the suits had all been arrested and taken into SHIELD custody. Afterwards, Coulson had insisted on debriefing. Throughout the entire thing, Coulson had sat at the head of the table looking smugly satisfied at the ease with which Steve, Tony, Natasha, and Clint had worked together. And Steve had to admit that they did make a pretty good team.

But now that the debrief was over, all he wanted was Tony. But unfortunately, Tony hadn’t returned with him to SHIELD, instead heading to SI headquarters in order to stabilize everything in the wake of Stane’s treachery. Steve opened the door, and started to walk, his thoughts solely focused on a bed before a warm, familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. “Hi there gorgeous,” Tony said, echoing the first words that he had ever spoken to Steve all those months ago.

Steve looked around and there, lounging against the wall by the door, hands in pockets and mouth curved in a smirk, was Tony. He was still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from earlier in the night, but they were torn and singed in various places. Tony himself had bags underneath his eyes, a few bandages wrapped around an arm, a brilliant bruise beginning to blossom on one cheek, and a streak of soot on his forehead. In spite of all of that, just like the first night they had met, Steve was struck by how beautiful Tony was.

Steve smiled back at him before taking a few steps forward and pulling Tony into a hug. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve and melted into the embrace, face nestled in the crook of Steve’s neck. After the events of the past few hours, Steve felt dizzy with relief and happiness at finally having Tony safely in his arms. After a moment, Steve realized that Tony was trembling, body shaking with faint tremors.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright. You did so good,” Steve murmured as he rubbed a soothing hand up and down Tony’s back, the other cradling Tony’s head. After a few minutes, during which Steve continued to hold Tony tight and whisper reassurances into his ear, Tony settled and giving Steve’s neck one last nuzzle, took a step backwards. Tony’s arms remained linked around Steve’s neck and Steve refused to move his hands from Tony’s waist. It seemed that both of them needed the closeness.

Tony looked up at Steve, and gave him a crooked smile, “So gorgeous, do you maybe wanna get out of here? Go back to my place?”

Steve laughed, “You mean your place that’s also my place?”

Tony’s expression turned soft and fond, “Yeah, our place. So how about it?”

Steve smiled and reached up to rub at the soot on Tony’s forehead, “Yeah, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know very little about how large companies are run and how CEOs are chosen. Please excuse any liberties this story may have taken with that process in the name of moving the plot along. I also think that writing fight scenes is probably not my forte, so excuse any awkwardness there.
> 
> As always, thank you for your patience in waiting for me to update! As promised, this chapter contained the last major elements of plot. The next few chapters will tie up some minor loose plot points, but otherwise will be filled with Steve and Tony fluff and smut (yay!!!).


	15. Don’t You Know that Storybook Stories Always Have a Happy Ending (Steve and Tony get their happily ever after)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Explicit sexual content. If that’s not your thing, you might want to skip most of this chapter.

**Steve**

Tony and Steve stumbled into the house and somehow made it up to Tony’s bedroom, mostly by leaning on each other. By unspoken agreement, they each stripped down to boxers and collapsed into bed together. Now that he had Tony with him again, Steve was reluctant to let him out of his sight for even a second. Luckily, Tony seemed to feel much the same way.

Steve reached out to grab Tony’s hand, wanting a connection between them even while asleep, but Tony just huffed and rolled, tucking himself up against Steve’s side and throwing an arm around Steve’s waist and sliding a leg in between Steve’s. It was so much better (Tony really was a genius) having Tony solid and warm and perfectly pressed up against Steve - where he belonged. Steve ran a hand down the smooth expanse of Tony’s back, enjoying the amount of Tony’s skin that was available for him to touch. Tony sighed and tried to burrow closer into Steve.

“You’re going to be here when I wake up, right?” Tony asked into Steve’s chest, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve smiled slightly up at the ceiling, even though Tony couldn’t see. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

Tony ran a hand across Steve’s stomach, making him to shiver. “I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

Steve brushed a kiss over the top of Tony’s head, “Me either. Goodnight, Tony.”

Tony placed a small kiss on Steve’s chest (almost over his heart), “Goodnight, Steve.”

\-------

Steve woke up just as light was beginning to filter into the room. He was warm - all the way the way through to his core. The reason for that warmth, for his contentment, lay curled against him, still sleeping. Steve never needed much sleep, but he wanted Tony to sleep as much as possible - the past day must had to have been even more draining for him than it had been for Steve. So Steve remained still, happy to stay wrapped up in Tony for as long as necessary. After the tumultuous events of past 24 hours (and especially after Tony’s extremely close call with the arc reactor - god, Steve couldn’t even think about it without breaking out in a cold, terrified sweat all over again) it felt so good to have Tony safely in his arms.

Steve looked down at the sleeping teen - his hair mussed and his eyelashes dark fans on high cheekbones - and his heart raced. What Steve felt for Tony was so complex and all-consuming that “love” seemed to be an almost… shallow description. Steve wished that he had the right words to describe how much Tony meant to him, but whenever he tried to think of them, all that came to mind was curl of Tony’s smile as laughed, the crease that appeared in between his brows when he got lost in engineering, and the way he moved against Steve while he slept. Steve looked at Tony and saw exactly what he had been searching for since the moment he woke up: a future.

* * *

**Tony**

Tony woke up in Steve’s arms, Steve already awake and smiling at him softly. Tony blinked hazily up at Steve and stretched, body arching into Steve’s. “Were you watching me sleep?” he asked.

Steve just hummed, not answering the question, and tugged Tony closer (practically on top of him - not that Tony was complaining), pressing a languid kiss to his lips before pulling back and smiling again, “Good morning, Tony.”

But Tony was having none of that. If Steve didn’t care that neither of them had showered or anything yet, then Tony certainly didn’t. Not bothering to dignify Steve’s greeting with a reply, Tony reeled Steve back in for another kiss and felt everything around him go blissfully hazy. All of his focus was on Steve - the press of his lips, the slick stroke of his tongue, all the points at which their bodies were touching. And abruptly, Tony realized that Steve might be the only person he wanted to kiss for the rest of his life - the only person he was _supposed_ to kiss for the rest of his life. Tony didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry or fucking shout it from the rooftops because after 18 years spent thinking that it would never happen for him (that he didn’t deserve it, that he wasn’t meant to have it), he had found it - that thing that people spend their lives searching for.

And even after everything that had happened, Steve was here, in Tony’s bed, kissing him like he never wanted to stop. Steve, who last night had literally made sure that Tony’s heart kept beating. And this time, there were no secrets, no lies in between them. There was just heat and happiness and the potential of a future spent twining their lives together. And as they continued to kiss, slow and syrupy good, Tony felt the stress and tension and heartache of the past 24 hours melt away, because he finally understood that having this - figuring things out with Steve - was the most important thing right now. No matter what happened next with SHIELD or with Stark Industries, Tony thought he would be okay as long as he had Steve next to him.

But just as Tony was really beginning to get invested in what this kiss was leading to (morning sex if he was lucky), Steve pulled away and nodded decisively before saying, “Breakfast,”

Tony stared at Steve, appalled. “I could have sworn I just heard you say ‘breakfast’ instead of what you should have been saying - maybe something along the lines of ‘Oh god yes, Tony! More, please. Don’t stop.’” He couldn’t believe that his dream of morning sex was being so cruelly snatched away.

Steve tried (and mostly failed due to his bedhead and softly fond eyes) to give Tony a stern look, “When was the last time you ate? You need to get some food in you.”

Tony smirked and rolled his hips against Steve, “Food is not what I want in me right now.”

Steve, predictably, blushed. And since Steve was shirtless and Tony was lying mostly on top of him, he had a good view of just how far down that blush went. However, the blush did not prevent Steve from giving Tony a scorching look in return and running his hands down Tony’s back to grip his ass and pull him closer. But just as Tony was about to declare victory and go back to the kissing, Steve _removed his hands_ and shook his head ruefully, smiling at Tony. “Shower and then breakfast,” Steve reiterated firmly. When Steve caught sight of Tony’s distraught face he added cajolingly, “Come on Tony, I’ll make you whatever you want - you just have to name it.”

Tony glared at Steve, “What I want is you.”

Steve smiled, his eyes dancing, “Maybe later.”

Tony groaned and rolled away and off of Steve, pressing his face into a pillow, “I can’t believe I’m being cock-blocked by Captain America and eggs.” He felt the mattress next to him shift as Steve got out of bed. Tony turned his head to the side to admire the shift of Steve’s muscles (all of which were on display given Steve’s current lack of clothing) as he stretched in the morning sunlight.

Steve met his eyes and then to Tony’s complete shock, stripped out of his boxers and began to walk away - completely naked. And god, Steve’s ass. Tony could and should write sonnets about it. As Tony remained on the bed, admiring the view, Steve called over his shoulder, “So I guess I’ll be showering alone then?” And in his scramble to get out of bed, Tony nearly face-planted on the floor as Steve - the teasing asshole - watched and chucked.

\-------

One extremely frustrating shower later found Tony and Steve in the kitchen, Steve cooking and Tony supervising (re: checking Steve out as he bent over to get things). The shower had been frustrating because despite Tony’s best “fuck me” eyes (and Tony had _great_ “fuck me” eyes, he had been told so by multiple people), Steve had insisted on purely platonic touching - so they wouldn’t “get distracted.”

So unfortunately for Tony, the only action he had gotten in said shower was some chaste hair washing and tender back scrubbing, leaving him very, _very_ … frustrated. Personally, Tony thought he should be given a medal or maybe a sainthood for restricting himself to platonic touching when confronted with a naked, wet, and soapy Steve Rogers.

Tony kept himself amused while Steve cooked breakfast by pulling up old pictures of Steve from his days in the Captain America USO show (punching fake-Hitler, lifting scantily clad girls on a motorcycle, etc.) and gleefully making fun of him, only stopping when Steve threatened to not only eat all of the food that he had just cooked on his own, but to do it while Tony watched. Steve gave it as good as he got and Tony obviously loved that.

As soon as the cooking was done, Steve sat down at the table to eat and Tony immediately plopped himself into Steve’s lap. Tony ignored Steve’s raised eyebrows - like hell was Tony going to sit in a chair, not touching Steve, when Steve had a perfectly good lap for him to sit in. Also, the arm that Steve had immediately snaked around Tony’s waist when he sat down clearly said that he didn’t mind Tony’s proximity one bit.

At the first bite of the omelet Steve had made for him, Tony groaned, closing his eyes in bliss. “So good, I missed real food so much,” Tony mumbled around another mouthful.

“What did you eat while I was gone?” Steve asked, looking at Tony with concern.

Tony shoveled another bite of the omelet into his mouth before replying, “You really don’t want to know.”

Steve glared at him, “Tony, alcohol is not a food group.”

Tony decided the best answer would be for him to eat more, and indeed, it seemed to mollify Steve a bit, relaxing him enough that he dug into his own breakfast.

“Will you pass me a piece of toast?” Tony asked once he had finished his omelet and breakfast potatoes, not wanting to reach all the way across the table for it. Steve tightened the arm around Tony and used the other to reach for the bread, offering it to Tony. “And can you butter it for me?” Tony asked sweetly, batting his eyes at Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes but to Tony’s delight, reached for the butter. “Is this what I have to look forward to?” Steve teased, smiling, “A future of being at your beck and call?”

Tony accepted the buttered toast from Steve and spoke without thinking, “I guess so. If you want it, that is.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that he had basically just poured out all of his insecurities over breakfast food. Because what Tony had obviously meant was, “If you want _me_ , that is.” As lucky and amazing as it felt to have Steve here with him, Tony couldn’t help simultaneously being terrified that he was going to lose it, lose Steve, at any moment. He was terrified that Steve would suddenly realize that Tony was too immature, too self-absorbed, or too broken to bother with. That Steve would notice that he could pick almost anyone else in the world and they would be better at this whole relationship thing than Tony.

“Hey,” Steve cupped Tony’s cheek, ducking his head a little to meet Tony’s eyes. “Of course I want it - a future with you, that is.”

When Tony continued to look at Steve skeptically, Steve huffed out a small, exasperated sigh before smiling fondly at him, “Tony, you know that I’m in love with you, right? I thought it was pretty obvious. I’m not going anywhere.”

And no, Tony had definitely not known that. His mouth fell open in shock and the piece of toast that he had been holding slipped out of numb fingers and dropped to the floor.

* * *

**Steve**

“You’re what?” Tony rasped.

“I’m in love with you. I-” but Steve’s words were cut off as Tony surged up, throwing his arms around Steve’s neck and crashing their mouths together. It was completely different from their unhurried kisses of the morning. Tony’s mouth was lush and hungry against his and his tongue slid against Steve’s, making him giddy with want. It was a kiss designed to drive Steve crazy and it was succeeding admirably. But then again, Tony’s kisses always seemed to have the power to drive him to distraction.

Steve broke away from Tony’s mouth to kiss and nip at the column of Tony’s throat, his hands sliding up underneath Tony’s t-shirt to caress warm skin. “How could I not love you? You’re gorgeous and brilliant and you have such a good heart. You make me laugh and you just - fit me, in every way-” Steve spoke clumsily in between kisses, his thoughts blurring and running together as his mind went blank of everything except _want and need and Tony_.

At his words Tony let out a small, broken gasp and gripping Steve’s head, dragged his mouth back up to meet Tony’s in another desperate kiss. Steve’s tongue curled around Tony’s and his hands roamed restlessly across Tony’s skin, wishing that more of it was at his disposal. Tony kept making these frantic, hitching little moans into his mouth and Steve couldn’t focus on anything except the heat from wherever their bodies were touching.

And then Tony pulled back from the kiss to stare at Steve with hazy, lust-blown eyes. His hands came up to cup Steve’s face and his thumbs stroked along Steve’s cheekbones as he bit his lip, in what Steve recognized as his nervous tic. Steve felt his brain slowly coming back online as his arousal receded a bit and he smiled at Tony, hand slowly stroking up and down Tony’s back. “You okay?” he asked, hoping that this time, Tony wasn’t going to shut him out, wasn’t going to pull away. Steve didn’t know how he would survive if Tony did that.

Tony looked at Steve for a moment before his mouth curved into a blinding smile and Steve felt the knot of worry below his breastbone unravel. “Yeah, I’m great,” said Tony, happily. Tony’s hands stroked through Steve’s hair and he tilted Steve’s head back to give him another kiss, “You better mean it, because there are no take backs. Tony Stark is a non-refundable purchase.”

“Of course I mean it,” Steve murmured against Tony’s lips, feeling pretty radiantly happy himself. Tony wasn’t freaking out, Tony wasn’t running. The only thing that would make this moment better was-

Steve’s train of thought was cut off as Tony began to speak again, “And obviously, I’m in love with you too. Head over heels. I mean, you’re perfect, so who wouldn’t be in love with you? But mostly, you’re perfect for me.” And that was exactly what Steve had been dying to hear. He couldn’t help giving Tony his own ridiculous smile before claiming Tony’s lips in a hard kiss. And Steve had jumped out of airplanes before, but nothing compared to this feeling of swooping excitement. Because Tony loved him, he _loved_ him.

Tony pulled back from their frantic kiss, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “Bed, now,” he panted. Which Steve thought was an excellent plan. Tony jumped off of his lap and Steve followed. They journey up to Tony’s room took a lot longer than normal since Steve kept getting distracted by Tony’s lips and had to stop every few feet and press him against the nearest surface for a heated kiss or two.

Finally, they made it through the doorway of Tony’s bedroom, still attached at the lips. As their tongues tangled, Steve moved a leg in between Tony’s and pulled him closer, digging his fingers into Tony’s hips. At the contact, Tony moaned and gasped out, “You have to fuck me.”

Steve stilled, his breath catching. “I’ve never done that before.” But god did he want to. He wanted everything with Tony.

Tony looked up at him with hooded eyes, “With a guy, you mean?”

Steve swallowed a little nervous for Tony’s reaction, “With anyone.”

He shouldn’t have worried. “Really now?” Tony purred, looking so smugly satisfied that it should have been a turnoff, but instead Steve just wanted him more. “Don’t worry,” Tony continued, taking a step back and out of Steve’s arms, “I’m going to like anything you do to me. I promise. Fuck, you don’t even have to touch me for me to get off on you. Just stand there and keep looking pretty.” And with that, Tony reached down to palm his very obvious erection, his heated gaze traveling over Steve’s body.

Steve felt himself flush. He felt like he was overheating, like he would vibrate out of his skin if he didn’t get to touch Tony soon. Steve felt dizzy with how much he needed Tony and he couldn’t seem to remember how to form words. Luckily, Tony was prepared to do enough talking for the both of them. Clearly reading some of Steve’s thoughts in whatever expression his face was making, Tony smirked, “But you don’t want to just stand there, do you? Whatever you want Steve, you can have it. You can have me - however you want. You just have to tell me.”

God, Tony’s mouth was going to be the death of him. But the words did the trick, managing to jolt Steve out of his daze. Gaze intent on Tony’s face, Steve finally spoke, “I want you naked and I want to touch you.”

At Steve’s words, Tony shivered and his eyes slipped closed for a moment. “Fuck yes.”

Steve watched avidly as Tony stripped out of his shirt, revealing his arc reactor and toned chest and abdominal muscles. Tony then hurriedly shimmied out of his pants and boxers until he was standing gloriously nude in front of Steve. With a wink, Tony collapsed backwards on the bed, shifting until he lay splayed in the center, all that glorious skin on display for Steve. Steve took a moment to look his fill. The last time they had been together like this, it had been dark and rushed and Steve hadn’t gotten the chance to really see what Tony looked like, aroused and wanting. But now, he could have Tony however he wanted.

On the bed, Tony started to shamelessly stroke himself, letting out breathy moans of pleasure that seemed specially designed to drive Steve even more insane with want. “You just going to stand there? I thought you wanted to touch,” Tony teased, but Steve could detect a note of underlying strain in Tony’s voice, making him feel a little smug. Even if he was better at hiding it, Steve was pretty sure that Tony was just as desperate for this as Steve was.

“Don’t rush me,” Steve murmured. Tony taking his own pleasure was just about the hottest thing that Steve had ever seen, but he really wanted to be the one doing the touching. So still fully clothed, Steve crawled on to the bed until he was hovering above Tony. Tony licked his lips as he stared up at him and Steve couldn’t help leaning down to swipe his own tongue for a taste of those lips. Tony eagerly threw his arms around Steve, attempting to tug him fully down, but Steve pulled back and out of reach, giving Tony a teasing smile.

Tony shut his eyes and groaned, “Fine, have it your way.”

“I will,” Steve said and reached out a hand to trail down the side of Tony’s neck and over the center of his chest, fingers playing over the arc reactor. Next, he brushed his fingers over Tony’s nipples and Tony let out a small gasp, eyes fluttering closed. “Sensitive?” Steve asked. Tony nodded so Steve reached down to suck one into his mouth, licking and biting gently and causing Tony let out a loud moan, hands coming up to grip Steve’s head and hold him in place. Steve switched his attention to Tony’s other nipple, drinking in the needy noises that Tony seemed incapable of holding back.

After a while, Steve pulled away, causing Tony to let out a disappointed whine as he opened his eyes to glare at Steve. Next, Steve ran his hands across Tony’s stomach and down to trace the v-cut of his groin, smiling when Tony’s hips bucked up, his body clearly begging for Steve to touch him where he needed it most. But Steve avoided Tony’s flushed, straining erection for the moment, letting his fingers continue to trail down Tony’s toned thighs.

Tony aroused was awe-inspiring. Steve couldn’t believe that he got to have Tony, who everyone wanted, like this. And Steve couldn’t believe that he had the power to drive Tony this out of his mind. “God Tony, look at you. So gorgeous and responsive. You drive me crazy, I want to have you like this all the time.” The words slipped out him, without any conscious thought, but they were undeniably true.

Tony’s hands were clenched in the sheets of the bed and he gritted out, “If you don’t hurry up, this is going to be over before the main event.”

Steve huffed out an amused breath and finally gripped Tony’s cock. It was hard and hot and silky smooth underneath his fingers, and Tony shuddered, hips snapping up. And Steve couldn’t keep the distance between their bodies any longer. His own cock was straining against the confines of his jeans and Steve wanted some relief desperately. Surging down, he pressed their bodies together once more and sealed his lips over Tony’s as he continued to slowly stroke Tony’s erection.

Tony’s hands dove underneath his shirt, gripping Steve’s hips as he rolled his own. After a few moments of fevered kissing that make Steve see sparks, Tony wrenched his mouth away and gasped out, “Please, I want you naked too. I need to touch you. Really touch you.”

And who was Steve to deny him? Steve sat back up and quickly stripped out of his clothing as Tony watched, his gaze hot and greedy. And as soon as Steve was naked, Tony was yanking him back down and Steve groaned as skin met skin for the first time.

Steve was cradled by Tony’s groin and he started to grind his hips down, sending waves of pure pleasure throbbing through him. Tony’s hands ran down his back to grip his ass, making Steve buck against him harder. “Mmm, yes. Just like that,” Tony murmured and Steve somehow found the willpower to pull back with a strangled noise. Tony gazed up him, flushed and panting. “Come back down here,” he invited, his mouth curving into a carnal smile.

But no, that wasn’t what Steve wanted right now. Steve swallowed and shook his head and instead leaned down to press a kiss to Tony’s abdomen. He left a trail of kisses as he moved lower, and right as he got to the top of Tony’s groin, he stopped and sucked the skin there into his mouth, hard enough to leave a bruise. The thought of seeing his marks on Tony the next day made Steve flush with possessive satisfaction. Tony clearly liked the idea too because he let out breathy, “Oh shit,” as Steve marked him.

Steve just couldn’t get enough of the taste and feel of Tony’s body. He had had fantasies of what it would be like for them to come together without any uncertainty between them, but none of those fantasies even came close to the reality of how deliriously good it felt to have Tony in his arms with the knowledge that he loved Steve back. Because this wasn’t just sex. It was making love. It was a beginning and a promise. It was everything.

Steve settled in between Tony’s legs and reached out to wrap a hand around Tony’s erection once more. And seeing that Tony was leaking pre-come at the tip of his cock, he finally gave into his curiosity and darted out his tongue to lick along the slit - an action that was met with a succinct, “Fuck,” from Tony.

The taste was foreign and a little bitter, but underneath was the taste of Tony’s skin and Steve wanted more of that, so he took the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth and gave it a slow suck. Tony gasped, “Steve, fuck… I can’t… please,” and the hand not clenched in the sheets of the bed hand flew out to tangle in Steve’s hair. Not pushing or pulling, just there. Steve moaned and gave Tony what he asked for, taking his cock deeper into his mouth and sucking again.

Steve felt foggy with lust. The stretch of his mouth, the weight of Tony’s cock on his tongue, the tiny hitches of Tony’s hips that pushed him further into Steve’s mouth, and sounds that Tony made every time he sucked or swirled his tongue - it all combined to make Steve feel wrecked with need. Steve shifted his hips against the bed, grinding down to give his own aching hard-on some relief.

And soon, Tony was pushing weakly at his shoulder and gasping, “Steve, I’m gonna-” but Steve just slid his lips further down Tony’s shaft and then Tony was coming. The hot, salty liquid hit his tongue and Steve swallowed.

“Oh fuck, that was so hot. God, Steve you don’t even know. Can’t believe you’ve never done that before. Your mouth, so good,” Tony babbled, tugging Steve back up his body. Steve went willingly and gasped with pent-up need when he was pressed up against Tony again.

Tony pulled Steve’s head down into a kiss, groaning when he tasted himself in Steve’s mouth. Steve, desperately rolled his hips against Tony and Tony immediately reached down to fist Steve’s erection, sending molten pleasure buzzing up and down Steve’s spine. As Tony stroked him, he tore himself away from Steve’s mouth to whisper, to beg, “You have to fuck me. Steve, please.”

And fuck, yes. Steve wanted that. It made him feel hot and dizzy, the thought of being inside Tony - connected like that. “Yes, I want that. Show me?” he asked, voice rough with arousal.

Tony looked at him with a pleased gleam in his eyes, “Alright, it’s my turn.” And then he shoved Steve, hard. Steve, taken completely by surprise, fell to the bed on his back, and in flash, Tony was on top of him, straddling his hips and grinning down at him. “Gonna make this so good for you baby,” Tony said, leaning down to give Steve a quick, dirty kiss before moving over to bite gently at his jaw and down his neck.

Steve made a truly embarrassing noise and bucked his hips.

Tony’s head snapped up and he focused passion-dark eyes on Steve. “Right,” he said, licking his lips and leaning over to grab something out of his bedside drawer. Steve watched as Tony squirted lube onto his fingers and then reached behind himself to start opening himself up. Tony’s face was screwed up in concentration with edge of pleasure and Steve really wanted to see what has happening

His hands clenched where they lay on Tony’s hips and slowly, he slid his hands back to grip Tony’s ass and spread it, making it easier for Tony to finger himself. Steve gazed up at Tony and asked, “Can I?”

Tony seemed to immediately grasp what Steve meant, and one fierce kiss later, Steve was pressing two lubed up fingers to the pucker of Tony entrance. And as the tips of his fingers pushed in and past the ring of muscle, Tony let out a sigh, his hands curling on Steve’s chest where they were braced. “More,” he urged and Steve pressed his fingers all the way into Tony’s body, amazed at how warm and smooth and tight Tony was inside.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony breathed out, his eyes closing as his hips rolled, practically fucking himself on Steve’s fingers. “Feels good babe,” he praised before continuing, “But I can never quite reach it myself, curl your fingers?” And Steve did as Tony asked, causing Tony’s eyes fly open as he gasped, “Oh god, there!”

Steve withdrew his fingers and then thrust them in again, fingers moving to find that perfect spot and Tony let out a little cry. Steve did it again and again until Tony was panting mess on top of him, squirming with every motion of Steve’s hand until he finally gasped out, “Okay, okay. Enough. I needed you in me like yesterday.”

* * *

**Tony**

Tony was ready. God, he was so fucking ready. Steve had worked him into a frenzied state of all-consuming lust, and now it was time for a little payback.

Tony moved down to kiss Steve, and as Steve’s tongue pushed between his lips he spread his legs even further and ground down against the hard shaft underneath him, causing Steve to moan into his mouth. Tony sat back and smiled at Steve before raising himself up and reaching back to slick up Steve’s cock, causing Steve buck underneath him. Then, he gripped Steve’s erection, guided it towards his entrance, and slowly lowered himself down.

Steve was flushed and breathing heavily. His hands gripped Tony’s hips impossibly tight. And when Tony had seated himself fully on Steve’s cock, Steve closed his eyes and let out a quiet curse. And Tony knew exactly how Steve felt. His own eyes slipped closed and he reveled at how perfect Steve’s cock felt inside him. After a moment, Tony began to move. Raising himself up and coming back down, his body sucking Steve inside with every thrust. Steve quickly got with the program, his arms working to help lift Tony into it and push him back down on his cock, hips rolling up to meet Tony’s thrusts. Steve’s wide, rigid shaft hit just the right spot perfectly, sending jolts of pleasure through Tony and making him gasp each time he moved.

“Oh god, Tony,” Steve gasped, his eyes wide and shocked. And Tony loved hearing Steve sound so far gone. Digging his nails into Steve’s shoulders, he began to move faster, writhing on Steve’s lap and chasing his release. It was so good and Tony could feel the heat and pressure building inside of him, the waves of pleasure rising until he was sure that they would crest at any moment. And Tony hadn’t known that sex could be like this.

The last time they had slept together had been fueled by anger and desperate need for an outlet for their emotions. It was clear that this time was different. “Fuck, I love you so much,” Tony whispered as he moved on top of Steve. It felt so good to be able to say it out loud, after weeks spent telling himself that Steve would probably never feel the same way. It was completely overwhelming how much he felt for Steve. But fortunately, as Tony looked down at Steve, he could see everything that he was feeling reflected back to him. And it was seeing the fierce want, the reverent wonderment, and the unabashed love in Steve’s gaze that sent Tony over the edge for the second time that night.

“Steve,” Tony gasped as his orgasm seized and slammed into him, tearing a sob from his throat as came untouched, his release shooting onto Steve’s stomach. Boneless, Tony collapsed against Steve’s chest, not caring about the mess between them. Underneath him, Steve almost whimpered, his hips making small hitching motions, cock still hard and hot inside Tony.

Tony leaned forward to press his mouth to Steve’s in a messy kiss, uncoordinated so soon after climaxing, before murmuring, “Come on, keep going. Feels good.”

* * *

**Steve**

Steve had no idea how to describe what he had felt watching Tony move on top of him. The almost agonizing pleasure from the tight heat of Tony’s body around him. The way Tony had looked, beautifully disheveled and wanton, as he had sought his own pleasure. It was perfect, intimate, and so scorching hot that Steve didn’t know how he had gone his whole life without it, without having Tony in this way.

And then had come Tony’s awed face and the tight clench of him as he had climaxed, Steve’s name on his lips. The sight of Tony coming had been spectacular, but Steve was desperate to find his own release. As soon as Tony gave him permission, he surged up and rolled, Tony landing in a sprawl underneath him. Immediately, Tony’s legs came up to wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass. “Fuck, yes,” Tony moaned, fingers scratching lightly down Steve’s back.

Steve moved, hips rolling as he finally thrust into Tony’s slick heat the way that he had been dying to. Almost immediately, Steve felt himself riding the edge of his own climax. And it felt so huge, so important, but at the same time, it was the easiest thing in the world - to let himself go, to trust that Tony would be there to catch him.

“Tony,” Steve gasped as everything went bright and light and he came. The world around him was shattering and reforming and the center of it, at the eye the storm inside of him, was Tony.

Steve pressed his forehead against Tony’s, eyes closed, heart pounding, and breaths coming too fast. Tony’s hands slid up to the back of his head and Steve felt Tony press their mouths together, tongue sweeping in between Steve’s parted lips. Steve opened his eyes and stared down at Tony before reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from his face and murmuring, “So beautiful.”

Tony grinned happily at him, sweaty and sated. Steve stole one more kiss before pulling out slowly. Tony gasped a little but at Steve’s concerned look was quick to reassure, “Just sensitive, it actually feels kind of good.”

Steve collapsed on the bed next to Tony, immediately curling around him and pressing light kisses to Tony’s collarbone and neck, the skin sweet and salty beneath his lips. Next to him, Tony stretched languidly, groaning, “Oh fuck, I think you killed me. It was that good.”

Steve blushed and reached out to snake an arm around Tony’s waist and pull him mostly on top of Steve, “I didn’t know it could - well, it was pretty perfect.” Tony beamed and they kissed, slowly and sweetly. “Love you,” Steve murmured as they broke apart.

And he loved how Tony didn’t even have to think before responding, “Love you too.” Eventually, Steve stumbled out of bed to get a washcloth. After cleaning both of them up, he gathered Tony back into his arms.

“I’m going to screw this up,” Tony whispered, hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve pulled away and made sure Tony was looking at him before firmly replying, “No you won’t. I won’t let you.”

Tony worried his lip, “I’ve - I’ve never done this before.”

Steve smiled, running a hand down Tony’s back, “It’s okay, me neither. We’ll figure it out - together.”

Tony leaned in to steal a kiss from Steve’s lips before moving back and smiling, eyes warm, “Yeah, okay. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it folks! I’ve also posted a short epilogue, but this chapter is the end of the main part of the story! I know I promised more than one chapter, but I honestly didn’t know how long this final bit of the story would end up being. In my story outline, the only thing I had written down for this last part was “Tony and Steve have relationship-affirming sex.” Which they definitely did.


	16. Epilogue

**Later that week**

Isaac lay in his hospital bed, eyes fixed on the TV, watching Tony speak at the Stark Industries press conference. His grandson's hair was immaculately styled and he wore a sharp, well-fitted suit. In spite of his youthful face, Tony looked every inch the confident executive.

“I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to my father,” the Tony on TV began. “There’s questions I would’ve asked him. I would have asked him how he felt about what this company did, if he was ever conflicted, if he ever had doubts. Or maybe he was every inch of the man we remember from the newsreels.”

Tony paused, seeming to collect his thoughts, “There was a lot of speculation about what happened during my kidnapping, all those months ago. And since his debut, there’s also been a lot speculation about what exactly Iron Man’s motives are. And what you need to understand is that I’ve seen innocent, defenseless people killed by the very weapons I created to defend them. I realized that I - and my family’s company - had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero-accountability.”

“Mr. Stark,” a reporter called out, “Can you tell us exactly what happened during your kidnapping?”

“I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things blow up. And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries.”

\-------

Later that day, Tony burst through the door of Isaac’s hospital room, eyes bright. “Did you watch?” he asked, eagerly.

Isaac smiled at his grandson, “Yes Tony, I did. You were excellent, I’m so proud of you.”

“I just wish you could have been there,” Tony replied, scowling.

Isaac had woken up from his coma just a few days ago, and although his health was rapidly improving, he was as yet unable to leave the hospital (much to his Tony’s displeasure). An ecstatic and relieved Tony had been at Isaac’s bedside within an hour of his waking up, and they had proceeded to have a long,  _ long _ talk. 

Tony had finally told him everything about his kidnapping and the origins of Iron Man. He had also relayed everything that had happened while Isaac had been ill - beginning with the reason for his illness and ending with the explanation of Stane’s treachery and his subsequent imprisonment. Together, they had worked on Tony’s plans for the future of Stark Industries, all beginning with the shutdown of weapons manufacturing as Tony had announced to the world today. Isaac couldn’t be prouder of the way that Tony had handled himself over these past few difficult weeks.

“I wish I could have been there as well,” Isaac replied, laughing, “But we don’t know how much longer I will need to remain in the hospital and we wouldn’t have wanted to delay the announcement indefinitely.”

“I know, I know. You’re right, of course,” Tony sighed before perking up again. “Hey! Do you feel up to seeing Steve? He’s waiting outside.”

“I would love to see Steve.”

“I knew you would! Last time, Steve made me come to see you by myself, saying that he didn’t want to get in the way of family. I said he was being an idiot - that he was family to you just as much as I was - but he insisted. Anyways, I made sure to drag him here today and he really wants to see you,” Tony said.

“Then why is he hiding in the hallway?” Isaac asked, smiling.

Tony had wandered over to the window in the door of Isaac’s hospital room and was peering outside, most likely looking for Steve. “Oh well, I think he’s nervous because we’re sleeping together,” Tony said distractedly.

“Really now,” Isaac asked, amused. He had suspected that there might be something more than just friendship between his grandson and his old friend ever since Christmas dinner, but he hadn’t known just how far those feelings went.

Tony’s head swiveled around to stare out Isaac, his mouth dropping open in apparent horror. “Oh shit, I definitely wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Steve’s going to kill me, I think he was planning on doing something dreadfully archaic and like asking you for permission to court me. But please, I’m not a 19th century maiden. And I definitely don’t have any virtue intact.”

Isaac chuckled, “Well then, by all means, let’s get him in here.”

Tony shot him a smile and left the room, returning moments later, dragging Steve by the arm.

“Steve,” Isaac greeted, warmly.

“Isaac,” Steve said, coming over to where he lay on the hospital bed to hug him carefully, “I’m so glad you’re doing better.”

“Indeed. Tony tells me that there have been quite a few interesting developments while I’ve been ill, including a change in your relationship with Tony?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he rounded on Tony, who had been inching towards the door while Isaac spoke, as if hoping he could make a break for it. “You told him?” Steve hissed.

Tony threw up his hands, “He pried it out of me, he’s a brilliant conversationalist!”

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony before turning back to face Isaac, a faint blush staining his cheeks, “Um, yes. Tony and I are-” Steve broke off, clearly searching for the right word.

Tony decided to jump in with, “Dating.” 

While Steve simultaneously said, “In love.”

It was Tony’s turn to blush. “Uh, yeah. What he said,” Tony replied, stepping forward to tuck himself against Steve’s side, Steve’s arm immediately circling Tony’s waist, his thumb rubbing the skin of Tony’s hip where his t-shirt had ridden up..

Isaac smiled fondly at the pair. He thought back to all those months ago, when he had first had the idea of asking Steve to be Tony’s bodyguard. Steve had been listless and miserable, unable to find any joy this new century. And Tony had been guarded and broken after his kidnapping. Back then, he had hoped that Tony and Steve could maybe help each other. Today, he was immensely glad that his plan had worked. Looking at Tony and Steve now, it was clear that they had each found exactly what they were missing in the other person. 

In Tony, Steve had a reason to live and to laugh. In Steve, Tony had a partner - someone whose support and faith made it easier for him to believe in himself. They were better, stronger because they had each other. And Isaac strongly suspected that no matter what, come hell or highwater (both of which were likely considering Tony and Steve’s superhero alter egos), they would always hold on to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I’M FINALLY DONE. Thank you so much for reading and taking a chance on a first time fan fic author!!! And a special thank you to those of you that took the time to consistently comment and tell me how much you were enjoying the fic :) I wrote this fic for myself, as a distraction at a stressful time in my life, but I’m so glad that you guys also enjoyed it! I certainly had a blast writing it :)
> 
> Regarding future works in this series, I currently have a few short timestamps planned out that I am eventually going to write. The first one is tentatively titled “Fraternization. or: 5 times Tony and Steve tried to hide their relationship at SHIELD and 1 time they didn’t bother.” The timestamps will mostly be an excuse for me to write some established relationship fluff. When I started writing this fic, I had thoughts about a longer, multi-chaptered sequel that would explore Tony and Steve’s developing relationship, but I’m not sure I’ll end up writing it. But you never know! I might one day - just don’t get your hopes up?
> 
> Finally, if you want to get in touch with me, shoot me an email at lelantusfics@gmail.com or come find me on tumblr (very recently acquired and I'm still working out the kinks) at [lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com).


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